


dirty paws

by Dreamicide



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cats, Eventual Romance, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 42,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamicide/pseuds/Dreamicide
Summary: Keith lives a simple, quiet life up in the mountains, until one day a cat appears on his doorstep. And then another. And another. Sometimes his neighbor's there, too.Or: in which Keith slowly finds himself the protagonist of Neko Atsume.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series of short slice-of-life chapters about Keith and cats, and also Lance, because I'm weak. This AU has actually been stewing in my head for a while, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Russian translation by Sarritena:
> 
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/7051514

The lush forest scenery, with its tall imposing trees and large carved boulders, merges into a blur of colors as Keith speeds across the highway on his motorcycle. Leaning on his side, he hugs the tight curves of the mountains with well practiced precision, eyes sharp and focused with adrenaline. Going to and back from work like this is what he looks forward to most in a typical day.

Every once in awhile he passes scattered farmland, some raising horses and a few with cows. The word ‘neighbor’ in the small town means less ‘someone living in a house right next to mine’ and more ‘whoever happens to live closest,’ which could mean upwards of miles between the two. It’s a small place, nice, and quiet. Just like his house.

Gradually slowing his speed, Keith turns on a dirt road nearly concealed by foliage and drives up the small incline that leads to the bungalow he's recently begun to call home. It's quaint and small, with only one floor and few rooms, but it stands alone in its own patch of land surrounded by forestry.

To Keith, it's a high upgrade from the shack in the desert. He likes it quiet - but more like… human quietness. Here, it can actually get quite loud, with screeching birds and skittering bugs and even the occasional wolf, but Keith finds he rather enjoys the sounds of wildlife. Cars rarely drive this road and he doesn't have to see more people than he's required, which is the perfect amount of seclusion.

Pulling up to the patch of dirt that tries passing as a driveway, Keith kicks down the stand and cuts the engine, switching off the radio and the last minute of Golden Earring’s ‘Twilight Zone’ along with it. His long hair sticks to the nape of his neck as he takes off his helmet, tugging at his gloves next before reaching into his leather riding jacket for the house keys. It’s the beginning of dusk, the setting sun and cloud formations painting a lovely golden hue across the sky. Perfect weather to spend the rest of his evening sitting on the front porch, simply taking in the scenery.

Keith takes the first step up the wooden porch before finally noticing he's not alone.

An orange and white patched tomcat lounges at his front door, looking up at him with lazy eyes and the tip of his tail idly flicking.

Keith stops in place. Stares at the cat, then looks around. Back to the cat.

“Uh.”

There’s no one else around, and from what he can see the cat isn't wearing a collar. Perhaps a stray?

“Hey, there,” Keith starts, taking a step closer. “Can I, uh…” He gestures to the door behind the cat, but the cat only continues peering up at him.

“Please move?” he tries.

The cat thumps its tail.

Frowning, Keith sighs and decides to just go ahead and reach out for the doorknob. Thankfully the cat doesn't become aggressive at the invasion of space, but after unlocking the door and trying to pull it open, the cat makes a low noise of complaint as the door slowly starts to scooch it back.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” it grouses, ears folded back and looking quite annoyed.

Keith glares back. He’d gladly leave the cat alone, if it would just get out of his way and let him inside his own damn home. Ignoring its whining, he pulls the door open all the way, until finally the cat has enough of being pushed around and scrambles to its feet, trotting away with a twitch in its tail.

Keith watches it leaving, headed toward the woods surrounding the house, and turns back to head inside.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning as he leaves for work, Keith doesn't see the cat again.

He figures that's the end of that and goes on about his day as usual. Drives his motorcycle to work, where he stays until the afternoon, then drives back, where he'll then have free time until dinner and bed. Then the next morning he'll get up and have breakfast before repeating it all over again.

It's a simple life. Keith is actually quite happy with it.

When he arrives back at home, however, the cat is there again. This time it seems to have learned its lesson and sprawled its body out to the side, away from the door's path.

Keith approaches, steadily meeting the cat’s piercing golden eyes. They have a brief stare-down that doesn't go anywhere. Then, he steps inside and forgets about it again.

The same happens the next day. And the next. Like clockwork, the cat only appears after Keith comes home from work, for reasons Keith can't discern. The cat never attempts to run inside the house, and doesn't beg for food or affection. It still has no collar on, and while it could stand to put on a pound or two, it doesn't look deathly skinny.

It becomes impossible to ignore when it starts joining Keith whenever he sits outside to read. He's turning a page when he sees the cat out of the corner of his eye, standing up and stalking over like a panther before sitting next to Keith’s legs. It starts licking its paw to clean its face, and it's hard for Keith to go back to his reading when something cute is happening near him. Sighing, he turns the book over and lays it on his knee, propping his chin up with a hand and watching the cat go through its bathing routine.

“You lost or something?” he asks.

The cat, as per usual, doesn't answer. The next time it licks up its paw and rubs it over its face, it folds back an ear inside-out. It stops and looks up when Keith smiles and huffs out a chuckle, before the ear pops back to normal and it resumes.

Keith doesn't think much about the next move he makes before he's already reaching out a cautious hand, holding it in front of the cat’s face. It stops cleaning to sniff his fingertips. In retrospect it's not really a good idea to stick one’s fingers in the face of an unfamiliar cat, but it still has yet to show aggressiveness so Keith rolls with the impulse. His eyes soften when the cat rubs its cheek against his hand, leaning its weight onto him before stepping forward so that Keith can stroke down its back. Taking the hint, Keith scratches the base of its tail. It likes that a lot, and raises its butt in encouragement.

“Oh. Okay. You are definitely a male cat.”

An intact male cat, at that. Someone should really do something about that. Keith frowns, knowing he doesn't have the kind of money to spend so freely, and besides, it's not even his cat.

It's not his cat.

“Tom.”

The cat flops over by Keith’s feet, looking up at him with sleepy, contented eyes.

“Because you're a tomcat,” Keith explains, “so, Tom.”

It's just so he doesn't have to keep referring to the cat as ‘cat’ all the time, is all. If said cat is going to insist on being a part of Keith’s daily routine, then he might as well have some sort of name to refer to him by.

Curling up into a ball, Tom wraps his bushy tail around his body and closes his eyes. Keith watches him for a bit, before going back to his reading.


	3. Chapter 3

The pet food is on sale the next time Keith goes to the supermarket.

He passes by the aisle on his way from auto parts to groceries, the large sale sign catching his eye and drawing him to a stop. He scans over the available brands, various packaging listing delicious sounding ingredients and pictures of happy dogs and cats with their owners.

The sale price isn't too bad…

Wouldn't make a harsh dent on his monthly budget…

It's when he catches himself reaching out for a bag of cat food that Keith finally comes back to his senses. Blinking, he pulls his arm back and shakes his head, continuing on to the grocery section.

He doesn't have a cat, and he's not responsible for Tom. Besides, being an outside cat means that Tom already has a reliable food source. Mice, voles, even the occasional bird. He's certainly not a starving cat, at any rate.

Keith goes on to fill up his cart with the usual food supplies, keeping strictly to his list and quickly forgetting about the sale that nearly tempted him.

*

It starts to rain when Keith is in the middle of loading the car he only uses for grocery runs. When he's finished and pulling out of the parking lot, it's pouring. By the time he makes it to his house, it's escalated into a full heavy storm.

Tom isn't there.

Keith isn't surprised; in weather like this, he expects the cat probably found shelter somewhere else. His little porch doesn't have much to offer.

He's already soaked to the bone when he makes his first trip unloading bags, and a sudden flash of lightning and crash of thunder makes his heart start a little. Gathering as many plastic bags in his hands, he squints through the wet hair plastered against his face and makes a run for the door. He kicks it shut behind him, before dropping everything to grab a towel from the bathroom. When he comes out drying off his hair, he gazes out the window.

Even in such terrible weather, the mountains hold a beautiful view.

*

The storm clears up that night and he goes to work in the morning as per usual. With the skies clear, he actually finds himself expecting to see the cat laying on his doorstep when he returns home, but…

Tom still isn't there.

Keith furrows his brow, and steps inside. He ends up grabbing his book and spending the evening on the porch, but the cat never shows up.

It goes the same the next day, and the day after that.

Each day, Keith stares at Tom’s usual spot, frowning.

Could something have happened to him?

Maybe the cat finally just got bored of Keith and decided to try human interaction elsewhere, but once the thought planted itself inside Keith’s head, he starts finding himself glancing at the sides of the road whenever he drives on his motorcycle. It's common for wild animals like deer and raccoons get run over, and in the past Keith has come across cats and dogs as well.

He doesn't find any when he looks for Tom, though.

*

He buys a bag of cat food after work.

Keith’s running out of ideas, and so he loads the bag into the side container of his motorcycle with a quiet acceptance before heading home.

He has to face it: he's worried about the damn cat.

And in a last ditch effort, Keith figures leaving a bowl of food out for him might hopefully entice him back, and at least give Keith the reassurance that he's still alive and being annoying.

However, when he pulls up the dirt patch driveway, Tom is there waiting at the door.

Keith kicks the stand down and immediately runs up to him, pulling off his helmet so fast his ears ache. His heart pounds in his chest, in both relief and frustration.

“You --!” He stares down at Tom in disbelief. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Mow,” says Tom.

“Don't just come here everyday and then stop for no reason.” Keith crosses his arms. “You know cats get run over by cars all the time, right?”

Tom rubs himself against Keith's legs. Keith resists the urge to lean down and pet him because damn it, he's kind of angry.

“How was I supposed to know you weren't one of them? I even got - aaaaagh, I got you _cat food!_ ” Reaching in the container, he takes out the bag and shakes it.

The sound of the kibble rattling immediately catches Tom’s interest. He stands up on his hind legs to sniff at the bag, ignoring Keith’s internal turmoil. Keith glares at the cat, before sighing in defeat.

“Fine. Whatever.” He turns to open the door, resignation in his posture. “Let me get a bowl first.”


	4. Chapter 4

Keith eventually finds a small tupperware container and uses it as a makeshift bowl, placing it in front of Tom and pouring a bit of kibble for him. He digs right on in, teeth crunching and tail curling in contentment.

Crouched down, Keith simply watches him as he eats. The way Tom sometimes pauses to check his surroundings, before glancing back at Keith as he licks his lips and then returns to the food. The way his head sometimes shakes a bit, like he's eating a dead animal and he's making sure it stays dead. The way his ears twitch to catch all the sounds of the forest even as he's distracted.

When Tom finishes he sits back on his haunches and starts cleaning his face, licking his lips, licking his paws, licking, licking, so much licking. Keith takes the tupperware and sees that the cat ate every last bite. A thought crosses his mind then, and he glances back to Tom.

“Are you thirsty?”

Tom continues cleaning his face.

Well, Keith himself always has a drink with every meal, and he doesn't know where Tom gets his water source, so he stands up and goes back inside to clean the bowl out and fill it with water.

*

It becomes a thing.

Now, not only does Tom appear on his porch after work, but he also clearly expects Keith to feed him again. And, well, Keith does. Because it's only one meal a day, and he already has an entire bag of cat food to use. It would be a waste not to. He just hopes Tom doesn't put up a fuss when the bag runs out.

“Don't get used to this,” Keith reminds Tom every day as he fills the tupperware bowl.

“Mow,” Tom replies every day before digging in.

Keith finds himself talking a lot more like that, lately. Before, he rarely spoke after work, not even to muse thoughts aloud. But now he feels his vocal chords getting some exercise as he idly chats with Tom, reading on the porch after Tom’s had his dinner. It helps that Tom responds to Keith a lot.

“Mow,” says Tom, making himself comfortable next to Keith’s legs.

“I know,” says Keith empathetically, idly turning the page.

“Mow,” says Tom.

“I know,” says Keith.

That is a lie. Keith has no idea what Tom is talking about.

Eventually Keith finds another tupperware container to put water in and keeps them side by side. But then he was down two tupperware containers for himself, and so on his next grocery run he buys two metal pet food dishes. They sit outside by his door, always ready to be refilled.

*

One day, as Keith’s washing his dishes, he hears a voice from outside the door.

“ _Aw, hey there little guy! Watcha doin’? Huh? Watcha doin’? You live here? This your house? Oh, you're a pretty one aren't ya? Can I pet you? Huh? Look at those eyes, they're so pretty …_ ”

Keith stops, staring at the door. The stranger goes on cooing and sweet talking for a few minutes, never leaving no matter how long Keith waits. Frowning, he dries off his hands and heads to the door.

When he opens it, he blinks.

“Oh hey, Keith!”

“Hi… Lance.”

One of his closest neighbors sits crouched over the ground, holding out his fingers in beckoning to Tom. He shoots Keith a friendly grin.

Lance lives down the hill with the rest of his family on Lacoste Farm. Keith passes by their place everyday, standing out with homemade “fresh strawberries for sale!” signs lining their front. Keith hasn't talked to them much, but the day after he moved in the house they had all shown up at his doorstep unannounced to welcome him to town, sharing a basket of fruit and vegetables from their personal garden. They also gave Keith a notebook full of their telephone numbers and of all the closest neighbors, just in case Keith ever needed them. It was incredibly nice of them, but very overwhelming to someone like Keith. He didn't end up saying much, aside from thanking them politely and a couple awkward “uh”s as he stood there holding the basket and notebook, knowing he was probably never going to use it.

He was a little worried that kind of unexpected visit was going to be a regular occurrence, but aside from seeing one or two of them out in public, there hasn't been much communication between them. So he's not sure why now the one closest to his age is at his door.

“I didn't know you had a cat,” Lance says, wiggling his fingers at Tom enticingly.

“I don't,” Keith says immediately. “He’s not my cat.”

Silence falls between them as Lance’s eyes drift to the two pet bowls a few feet away, then back up to Keith. He gives him the kind of look Keith sees on little old ladies right before they say something like “bless your heart.”

“Yeah, alright,” Lance chuckles, standing up and brushing the dirt off his knees.

“Is there something you need?”

“Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.”

Keith furrows his brow. “We both live here…”

“… Nevermind.” Lance adjusts himself, bringing up a messenger bag Keith only just now notices. “So anyway, we’ve been making strawberry jam all day and what do ya know, we have an extra jar on our hands!” He pulls said jar out of the bag with a flourish. “Ta-da!” The sun catches off the glass, emphasizing the mouth-watering red color of the jam inside. A sticker labeled ‘Lacoste Farm Homemade Strawberry Jam’ in a fancy font wraps around the jar. “Personally canned by yours truly,” Lance says proudly, holding it out for Keith.

Keith takes it a little hesitantly, circling the jar in his hands. “Extra jar?” he repeats, frowning to himself. “Don't you normally just sell them?” He’s pretty sure he's seen another homemade sign for those amongst the others.

“Drat, saw through my ruse.” Lance snaps his fingers. “Alright, you caught me. It's not extra, but it is free. The catch is, it's the only free jar you'll get. And once you taste it, you'll realize it's the best damn jam you've ever had and ever will have, and have no choice but to buy more from us.” He winks and clicks his tongue, pointing fingerguns. “That's how we getcha.”

“Oh.” Keith glances at the jar, running his thumb over the print. “Well… thanks.”

“No problem. You now know where to come when you're all out.” Smiling, Lance tosses the messenger bag strap over his shoulder. “Well, got a few more freebies to hand out before it gets dark.” He leans down to hold his fingers out for Tom again, who ignores him. “Stay beautiful,” he coos, straightening himself and tossing Keith a wave. “See you and your cat later sometime!”

“He's not my cat!” Keith shouts after him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone's kind words and kudos so far! I read them everyday, and I'm so happy people are enjoying this silly little fic!

It's the best damn jam he's ever had and ever will have.

Keith's never realized until now that eating jam was supposed to be a spiritual experience. Now there's a new addition to his morning routine: having a piece of toast spread with the ambrosia of the gods before leaving for work. On days he needs a pick-me-up, he adds a spoonful to a bowl of ice cream. It doesn't take long before he's already halfway through the jar, and he realizes that Lance was completely right. He got him, hook, line, and sinker.

“No,” Keith says, holding his bowl of ice cream away as Tom stands up on his hind legs to get a closer look, “mine.”

Tom sits back down on all fours, peering at him curiously.

“You already had your dinner. Go catch a bird or something if you're still hungry.”

Tom tries to inch closer again, and Keith lifts the bowl over his head.

“Mine.”

*

Tom’s been cleaning out his food dish incredibly fast, lately. Keith always fills it before going inside and putting away his riding gear, reappearing to keep the cat company for a while, but he's noticed now he barely has the time to make himself at home before he comes out and the bowl is already empty.

Keith raises an eyebrow. Tom ignores him in favor of stretching a rear leg high over his head and cleaning himself.

“You're going to run out soon, you know,” he warns, crossing his arms. “Don't complain when it happens.”

In response, Tom flops himself over and stretches out, fluffy belly fully exposed as he blinks slowly up at Keith.

Keith blinks back. That's… new. Tom’s never done that before. He kinda looks like a dog when it wants its tummy rubbed.

Crouching down, Keith lifts a careful hand.

“You want me to… pet you here?”

Tom curls his paws up in invitation.

Keith reaches out.

As soon as his hand brushes the soft fur, Tom grabs at his arm and kicks.

“Hey!” Keith recoils, and checks for scratches. Luckily nothing broke the skin, but he still shoots a glare at the cat. “The hell was that for?”

Tom only scrambles back to his feet and dashes away, leaving Keith cradling his hand and incredibly confused.

*

As soon as he arrives home, Keith fills the bowl and watches as Tom comes running at the noise, before going inside and putting away his gear. After changing into a pair of sweats and shirt, he grabs a bottle of water and opens the screen door to step back outside.

He’s out just in time to spot a bushy gray tail disappear underneath his car.

Keith blinks owlishly, glancing down at Tom who's sitting next to the already empty bowl, then back to the car.

He draws closer to the car, dirt and gravel crunching beneath his shoes. The vehicle casts a long shadow in the setting sun, cooling the ground enough for him to lower himself to his hands and knees and peer beneath.

On the far side is a small gray and white cat, posture low and curled protectively. It watches Keith with wide, dilated eyes, ears up and fully alert. Keith notices a small notch in the left one.

“Hey,” he says quietly, inching closer.

The cat backs away, fur raising defensively.

Keith lets it have its space, but watches it for a bit. It doesn't move, staring back at him with an almost eerie stillness. He tries coaxing it for a little bit, speaking softly and gentle, but the cat refuses to budge and he figures he's probably stressed it out enough and pulls back.

“That your friend?” he asks Tom as he returns to the porch, sitting down in his chair and brushing dirt off his hands and knees. Tom rubs against his legs, and Keith sighs.

He sits there for quite a while, watching both the scenery and the car out of the corner of his eye. About an hour passes before he sees the new cat again, shyly taking a step out into the open. It scans its surroundings meticulously, and when it spots Keith it immediately freezes in place. If he didn't know any better he would have thought the cat became a statue from how still it was.

“Hi.”

He tries to say it gentle and friendly, but it spooks the cat enough that it spins right back around and retreats to its hiding spot. Keith's never met such a skittish creature before. He couldn't get a good enough look at to see if it had a collar, or had a good weight, or anything, really.

Sighing, he sits back and idly scratches Tom’s ear, wondering if he'll ever get a chance to.


	6. Chapter 6

“Come on…”

Keith grunts in frustration as he scrapes out every last morsel of jam from the near-empty jar. If it were any other brand, he'd throw it away at this point, but no. He's determined to absolutely clean out the thing. The tip of his knife only spreads the jam around the bottom, though, and so in a last ditch effort he grabs a piece of bread and stuffs it in, wiping it out like a sponge before popping it in his mouth.

He glares at the crystal clear jar as he chews.

And now he's completely out.

*

He sees the new cat every other day or so. In hopes of letting it get used to his presence, Keith keeps his distance after feeding Tom, watching as it slowly comes crawling up from his car and creeps ever closer. It always keeps its eyes on him, even as it finally reaches the food dish and bends down to eat and drink water.

It's not nearly as scared of Tom. Keith can't help but feel a little jealous as the new cat appears completely indifferent to Tom’s presence, only jumping to alert whenever Keith so much as makes a sound when adjusting himself.

“That's how you stay alive, I guess,” Keith muses, propping his chin in his hand when the cat once again darts away. “You don't trust anyone.”

He turns his attention to Tom with a flat look. “You, on the other hand, are just lucky.” Playfully, Keith nudges at Tom’s back with his foot. “Going around lying on strangers’ doorsteps.”

Tom flattens his ears back in annoyance when Keith keeps nudging him, and the expression on his face actually makes Keith laugh; he looks so legitimately offended.

*

Living in such a small town in the seclusion of the mountains, most of the stores and businesses are the locally owned “Mom & Pop” types. They’re where Keith most often sees his neighbors and fellow residents, politely saying hello but mostly keeping to himself.

He’s on a pharmacy run the next time he finds himself at the drugstore. The pharmacist is a woman Keith knows lives only a few miles away from his house, but if it weren't for her tag, he wouldn't even know her name.

It's clearly not a problem for the next person who walks in, bell chiming above the door as a familiar voice calls out, “Hey, Mrs. Martinez!”

Keith stills in place, eyes widening.

_Strawberry jam!_

No, wait. His name is Lance.

The pharmacist exchanges brief greetings with Lance, before he makes his way down the aisle next to Keith and starts perusing the shelves. Keith can see flashes of his brown hair and blue hoodie between various items as he strolls on by, and Keith realizes he's being faced with an opportunity he cannot let go to waste.

Quickly, he pats at his pocket and draws out his wallet, rushing over to meet Lance at the end of the aisle. Lance spots him a moment later, face brightening and lifting a hand to wave, but before he can say anything Keith stuffs a fistful of bills in his hands without a word.

Lance glances down at the money, then back at Keith. Down again. “Uh…”

“More jam,” Keith blurts out forcefully. Then he catches himself, and tries again, stumbling a little. “I mean I… want to buy more of your jam. The strawberry.”

“Oh.” Lance's eyebrows raise. “Oh! Yeah, of course! Wow, you went through that freebie quick…” he mumbles, flipping the bills through his fingers and counting the amount. “Hey, you sure you wanna buy this much? This right here is enough to buy, like, four jars.”

At first Keith’s instinct tells him to shout, ‘Of course, you fool! Bring me every jar you have in your house!’ but once again he has to check himself. Reminds himself he has a budget. Lips pursed into a pout, Keith nods silently as he holds out a hand, almost petulant. “Just one…”

Lance chuckles a nice sounding laugh, handing back some of Keith’s money. “I don't have any on me right now, but I could stop by your place later and give it to you then?”

Keith nods again, slipping his money back in his wallet. “Sure.”

“Awesome.” Lance grins. “Can't wait to see your cat again.”

Keith can't even bring himself to correct Lance this time.


	7. Chapter 7

That afternoon Keith watches patiently as the gray cat slowly makes its way over to the food dish. It looks like it's a little more comfortable with his presence now than the last few days, hesitating a bit less than before.

He's able to get a better look at it, too. It’s smaller in build than Tom, fur a little fluffier, and eyes a sky blue. All four of its paws are white, giving it the impression that it's wearing socks. No collar. It doesn't seem to mind Tom walking right up to it and sticking his face close, nose to pink nose as they sniff each other.

Keith studies their interactions with quiet fascination.

When the bowl is empty they sit next to each other, performing their post-dinner ablutions, and at one point Tom even leans over to lick the gray cat’s ear. Again, Keith feels that weird pang of jealousy, but a part of him also wonders if that means there's hope the cat could grow to be more comfortable around him, if it's able to tolerate Tom so much like this.

The thought barely passes his mind when the cat turns to look at him with its bright blue eyes, as if sensing his feelings.

“Hi…”

At least it doesn't run away anymore whenever he says that.

In fact, it takes a step closer.

Keith’s eyebrows raise.

Slowly, it lifts its paw. Takes another cautious step. Its tail lies flat as it gradually tiptoes ever closer to Keith, looking curious but ready to bolt the moment he makes a single move.

Keith is determined not to make that move. With the stillness of a statue, he remains in place, going so far as to even hold his breath in anticipation. He has no idea what the cat even plans to do once it comes as close as it dares - what do normal cats even do in such a situation? Tom never cared, he just flopped wherever he pleased. At any rate, Keith holds position, trying to appear welcoming and unintimidating.

It's never come this close before…

Only a few more feet…

“ _Oh my god, Pickles!_ ”

The cat jumps and scampers away, kicking up a dirt cloud in its wake faster than lightning.

Keith shoots up out of his seat, his startled heart racing, wondering what the hell just happened, when --

Lance appears out of nowhere, running after the cat and lowering to his hands and knees when it crawls underneath Keith’s car. “Aw, I'm sorry, baby! I didn't mean to scare you! Where’ve you been, huh? Where’ve you been?”

He goes on to coo and make kissing noises as Keith stands in place, dumbfounded.

When it seems the cat won't come out to Lance’s coaxing, he drops his head despondently. He pushes himself off the ground and takes a step forward, only for his eyes to widen upon finally noticing Keith. “Oh - hey! I was just dropping by to make your delivery.” Smiling, he draws up to Keith as he opens his messenger bag and digs around, soon presenting a brand new jar of strawberry jam. “Personally canned it for you.”

Like Pavlov’s dog, Keith feels his mouth water. In that moment, he immediately forgives Lance for interrupting and scaring the gray cat off. He quickly grabs for the jar, noticing the sticker around the circumference has a small ‘for Keith!!’ scribbled on the side with a smiley face. “Thank you…” He holds it close. Then glances up. “Did you know that cat?”

“Pickles?” Lance’s face lights up. “Yeah! She’s one of the neighborhood barn cats!”

Oh, so it's taken…

“I actually haven't seen her in a couple weeks,” Lance continues, glimpsing back toward the car. “She tends to disappear every once in awhile. I bet she was attracted here by the food.” He turns back to Keith. “I was - hey, you!”

Tom finally arrives at the scene, strutting in like he owns the place to glide his side against Keith’s leg. Lance bends down, propping himself on his knees, and makes more of those loud kissing noises. Keith simply watches with mild amusement.

“Ohhh, you're a boy cat,” Lance says when Tom turns around to show off his assets. “Pretty boy, pretty little boy, c’mere…”

Tom mulls it over a bit, but eventually trots up to Lance. He closes his eyes in contentment when Lance scratches behind his ear with expert precision, then pats his side.

“You, on the other hand,” says Lance, “I've never seen in a barn. What's his name?” He glances up at Keith.

“Tom,” says Keith.

“Ohh. Creative.” Lance grins.

Keith can't tell if Lance is making fun of him. He frowns, feeling the need to defend himself, somehow. “Because he's a tomcat.” Crossing his arms, he stares flatly at the cat, and remembers the storm incident. “And gets himself into tomfoolery.”

Lance suddenly bursts out laughing. “Tomfoolery,” he wheezes, wiping the corner of his eye. “That's - wow. You're a funny guy.”

Keith blinks, confused. He wasn't trying to tell a joke, but okay, sure.

“It's better than Pickles.”

“Hey, I didn't name her,” Lance says through a chuckle. “She's always had that name. Think it was one of the kids from Honeyberry Farm that started calling her that first. Now it's the only name she responds to. Well, when she so chooses, at least.”

There's something about that answer that strikes Keith as peculiar. “Does she not belong to just one place?”

“Nah, she's part of a community of barn cats. They pretty much just all roam around town and control the rodent population. They're much friendlier than your typical cat colonies, though. Even Pickles, here; she’s always really shy at first, but trust me - once you give her some time to warm up to you, she becomes one of the most loving and affectionate cats I've ever seen.”

Keith nods. Lance seems to really know about this sort of thing. But… “Why are you telling me all of this?” He asked about her ownership, not for tips on how to befriend her.

Lance shoots him a wink. “Because I can tell you're interested in her.”

Face suddenly warm, Keith averts his eyes. He feels caught, somehow.


	8. Chapter 8

“So…” Lance begins, sometime later. They're still out loitering around Keith’s house, having at some point sat down and made themselves comfortable sitting next to each other on the porch steps. Keith doesn't know how long they've spent the afternoon talking amicably, or even how it progressed to that point. Lance just seemed really interested in Tom and loved talking about the barn cats and cats in general, and Keith was very willing to listen, and… yeah.

Keith scratches at Tom’s back, glimpsing to the side. “Hm?”

“Can I real talk for a sec?”

His hand slowly stops, not sure what to make of that. “Uh… sure.”

“Okay.” Leaning forward, Lance pats at Tom’s head fondly. “I don't care if it sounds like I'm lecturing you on what to do with your own pet, but you really, really should go have Tom neutered. Like, as soon as possible.”

Keith feels himself deflate. He wants to deny, again, that Tom is his and therefore has no responsibility over him. But that doesn't matter in the end, now does it? It doesn't make a difference who does or doesn't own him; he needs to be fixed.

“I know,” he mumbles, drawing his knees to his chest and crossing his arms over them. “I know he does. It's just…”

“Yeah?”

Keith sighs. “It's one of the main reasons why I keep telling you he's not my cat. I can't consider him my cat. It's already enough that I feed him sometimes. If I say ‘he's my cat,’ then I’d have to take full responsibility and get him fixed, take him to the vet regularly, keep up with his shots, and I can't just… I’ve already looked up the cost for neutering and it said it could be up to a few hundred dollars. I don't _have_ that kind of money to drop so freely on such short notice, Lance. I can't _afford_ to have a cat.”

It's silent when Keith finishes, and he's too embarrassed to check for Lance's reaction. He hates this. It's too personal a conversation to have with someone he barely knows. Frustrated, he hides his face in his arms and breathes.

“Hey…” A hand comes to rest on Keith’s shoulder. “It's okay. I'm sorry I didn't realize that was why you kept insisting he wasn't your cat.”

“It's fine.” Keith lifts his head, running a hand through his hair. He still can't meet Lance’s eyes, so he settles for gazing out to Pickles, whose gathered enough courage to sit outside by the wheel of his car. “Just frustrating.”

He feels Lance withdraw his hand. “I get it,” Lance says sympathetically. “And you know, there's still an option. The clinic here has a low cost spay and neuter program for the community of barn cats we have. They'll even cover for his shots. It's a lot cheaper, but if it's still too much, I'm willing to take care of it all myself.”

That finally coaxes Keith’s eyes back to Lance, who's looking at him with a friendly smile. “Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah?” Lance laughs. “I dunno if you've noticed, but I'm kind of passionate about cats. I used to volunteer with the shelter here a few years ago, actually. We did a lot of TNR for the colony, trap-neuter-release, and that's basically what we’ll do for this guy, here.” He pats the base of Tom’s tail. “Anything to make sure he doesn't go knocking up our girls and becoming a deadbeat dad.”

Keith nods, feeling a wave of sheer relief wash over him. Just like that, the strange guilt and stubbornness over keeping his distance from Tom melts away. He still doesn't want to consider himself the owner of Tom - he just isn't in the position to take up that responsibility right now - but at least the cat still has the chance to be treated right.

Of course, that only makes room for a new worry to flash in his mind, widening his eyes.

“Oh, no.” Mortified, he looks over to Pickles, then back to Lance. “What if he's already done that? Pickles, she’s been letting him get close, what if when I wasn't looking --”

Lance starts laughing again, shaking his head. “Nah, you don't have to worry about that. See that little notch in her ear?” He points, Keith following his eyes. He remembers noticing it the first time he had a good look at her, but figured she'd gotten it from a fight. “The vets give those to the colony cats after fixing them, and we use it as a sign to tell who’s been spayed and who still hasn't. Tommy-boy here will probably get one, too.” Lance grins and scratches Tom below his chin.

Tom’s eyes fall closed in contentment, blissfully unaware of the scheme the two young men are concocting.


	9. Chapter 9

Lance gives Keith one more tip on befriending Pickles before he finally departs.

(“I suggest putting a big cardboard box somewhere close to their bowl. Somewhere she can escape to when she feels uncertain or insecure. Right now, she's using your car for that, but if she has a box she'll feel safer being around you. Move it a little closer to your chair everyday. She'll be purring in your lap before you know it.”)

Keith still has a lot of cardboard boxes leftover from the move, so he finds the biggest one and sets it out about halfway between the bowl and the car. Tom explores it first, tail curled at the end in curiosity, and soon Pickles tiptoes over to inspect it as well. Keith is pleased when she takes to it rather immediately, curling herself into a little ball inside while keeping her eye on him. Lance was right - she still wanted to have somewhere to hide, but now she was considerably closer than before.

He scoots it just an inch or two more everyday. Just enough that she won't notice. Keith feels himself growing in legitimate anticipation, a smile tugging at his lips when he’s able to get a clearer look at the tabby markings on her face. It’s amazing, how much progress they're making.

At least, until the day he runs out of cat food.

Keith looks at the bowl with dismay as the last vestiges of kibble scatter from the bag in his hands, shaking it out until every last crumb falls. Tom’s already trotted up to Keith, meowing happily before digging in. Pickles hangs back as usual, but Keith knows she’ll eventually get her share tonight. There was just enough left for their usual serving.

Stepping back, Keith numbly lets himself fall into his seat.

So that’s it, then.

“I kept telling you,” he says - to Tom or to himself, he's not sure. “Don't get used to it.”

Pickles ventures out soon enough and she and Tom clean out the bowl together. Keith watches with a bittersweet smile on his face, wondering just how big of a fuss they'll put up when he doesn't feed them tomorrow.

They'll be fine, he tells himself. They'll just have to go back to whatever they did before Keith came along.

He lets himself get lost in his thoughts for several minutes before one of the bushes at the perimeter of the forest starts to rustle. Pickles hides away in her box at the sound, and Tom stands up in alert with eyes wide and ears perked.

All three of them watch as a black and white tuxedo shorthair emerges from the bushes.

Keith feels his breath catch.

“Hey, there…”

The cat keeps its distance, but Keith is able to pick out the familiar little notch in its left ear. So this is another of the neighborhood cats.

Keith wonders if Lance would know this one…

It's much less shy than Pickles, already making its way over to the bowl. Keith’s heart sinks when it sniffs around, not even finding a crumb to lick.

“Sorry…”

Over and over, he'd told himself it was just a one-time thing. He only bought it in the first place to find Tom again. That he couldn't let himself get too attached and he'd stop as soon as they finished it all.

Sighing, Keith runs his fingers over the empty bag. Pictures of happy cats and owners stare back up at him.

Unbidden, memories from long ago flash through his mind.

Of all the moments he missed having a fond hand over his head.

Of all the bigger kids who always got to the candy bowl before he had a chance at it.

Of all the foster guardians who never had a place for him to escape to whenever he felt uncertain and insecure.

Keith makes his decision. Standing up, he heads back inside for his riding gear.

*

He buys a new bag.

*

As well as a kick toy he found, because it looked like a cute bird. And he was getting tired of Tom grabbing and kicking at his arm.

*

And some catnip.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yesterday I let my cat (who is one of the main inspirations for Tom) outside for a bit, but then it started storming something fierce and he hid somewhere out there for SEVEN HOURS. He eventually came back and I was so relieved, but I also had to laugh because it figures the cat Tom is based off of would disappear in a storm. Also when he finally showed up again, he had very dirty paws. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your kind comments and kudos! I still have quite a bit I want to do for this fic, and I'm excited to get to them!

Keith only has to knock off a couple items off his next grocery list to make up for the difference, but it's worth it. Lance had said they were barn cats, that they were fixed, that they were already well taken care of. Keith’s allowed to feed them and enjoy their company without making a commitment he can't afford. It’s okay, he realizes as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. It's okay.

It's _okay_.

The thought is so… liberating, somehow.

He finds himself grinning as he speeds down the valley.

*

Once he's back in the mountains, Keith leans into the curves with a familiar grace. There’s little traffic at this time of day, so he lets himself fly just a little over the speed limit. Just a tad.

The only rock station within a fiffy mile radius has started giving out to static, but he stubbornly keeps it on because they finally started playing some Nirvana and damn it, he's not a quitter.

“ _But he don't know what it means_ ,” he starts singing quietly to himself, filling in whenever the static drowns out the song, “ _don't know what it means, and I say_ …”

He drifts off when he passes by the signs of Lacoste Farm, spotting Lance standing by the gate. He's waving at him. Normally Keith would offer a polite wave in return, but instead he lets off the gas and slows down, eventually coming to a stop almost right in front of him.

Lance’s eyes sparkle as he looks Keith up and down to the motorcycle, giving him several once overs and mouthing a silent ‘nice.’ Keith lets himself inwardly preen a little bit; he's pretty damn proud of his bike, feels no shame in showing it off. It's beautiful, and he knows it.

“A new cat showed up,” he calls over the loud rumble of the engine, before going ahead and cutting it off and removing his helmet. He remains straddled over the seat, however. His personal signal for ‘I can talk for a bit, but I'm not coming inside for a visit.’

Excited, Lance bounces closer and eagerly asks about the cat. Keith describes it, notes its ear nick and color. The way most of its face is black except for a small white patch on its chin that makes it looks like its mouth is constantly open in shock.

“That sounds like Sigur!” Lance says. “My little sister named him, actually. She was going through a serious Sigur Rós phase.” He pauses. “I say ‘was’ like it's past tense but honestly, they're still one of the only bands she listens to.”

That was really all Keith initially wanted to know, but he's pleasantly surprised when Lance goes on to tell him about Sigur’s personality traits and tips on befriending him. Apparently he's very laid back and will let you do just about anything to him. Lance pulls out his phone and shows Keith an old video of his sister holding him in her lap, making flappy drumming motions with his front legs. Keith can't help but burst out a laugh, because that cat just did _not_ care. Lance, encouraged, swipes to another video before Keith can recover and say no thanks, and he ends up watching several more short clips of Sigur.

It's… easy, talking to Lance. Keith doesn't realize how long he's stayed until it starts getting dark, and even then he feels like it wouldn't be difficult for him to stay and talk even longer. He could, but he shouldn't. Lance also notes the time and lets Keith shift to put his helmet back on and start his engine, but before he heads out Lance steps forward.

“Wait, one more thing!” he shouts above the roar. “We have cat carriers we can loan you sometime, whenever you get Tom fixed. Say the word and I will bring one up. You'll probably need my help getting him in there.”

Keith nods his thanks, face hidden underneath the visor of his helmet.

“Oh, and let me know whenever you meet another cat!”

Keith gives a thumbs up, and drives off.

There's no more Nirvana on the radio and there's not enough distance between here and home to gain a lightning speed, but Keith still feels a kind of thrill in his veins, pulling a smile from his lips.


	11. Chapter 11

Lance was right. Sigur is just about the most laid-back creature Keith has ever met.

The black and white shorthair struts up along with Tom every day for dinner, jumping up on the porch’s wooden railing afterwards to lick himself clean. Keith, filled with curiosity, stands up from his chair to draw closer. He strokes a gentle hand down Sigur’s back, who lets him do so with hardly a response. Emboldened, Keith lifts a finger and pokes him in the side. The cat’s white tipped tail only sways back and forth, not even thumping in aggravation.

Keith feels like he's discovered so much power.

“You really don't care, do you?” he says in awe, even going so far as to poke one of his paws. Tom _hates_ that. But Sigur? Gives Keith a weird look, sure, but he lets him do as he pleases. Keith strokes a single finger over his paw a few moments before carefully lifting it and turning it over.

_Toe beans._

Keith has to bite his lip to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. They're all pink, except just one on the end, which is black. He pokes at them some more.

Remembering the videos Lance showed him, Keith knows Sigur probably won't mind at all if he were to pick him up, but he hasn't quite gotten that confident with cats, yet. Maybe someday.

*

Lance stops by a few days later, a small cat-sized carrier in his arms as he makes the trek up the hill. Keith’s relaxing on the porch, watching Pickles inch closer, but when they hear the sound of shoes crunching gravel she turns tail and hides in her box.

“Okay,” Lance starts as soon as he reaches Keith and before he has the chance to greet him, “I know I told you to say the word and I'd come up, and I was planning on just checking up with you but that was when I realized I don't actually have your _number_ , so…”

He drifts off, eyeing Keith.

“Oh, yeah.” Keith pushes himself up, walking over to take the carrier from him. He hefts it in his arms, light but bulky. He smiles at him. “Thanks a lot, Lance.”

Lance’s shoulders drop a little. “Sure, yup, no problem.”

“Think I could take him in today?”

“They’re open, yeah. Dunno when they’d actually do the surgery, but they've got plenty of kennels there to keep him before and after as he recovers.”

Keith places the carrier beside the steps as Lance answers, watching Tom napping nearby. “Might as well get it over with, then,” he mutters.

“Need any help?” Lance steps closer.

“Nah, I got it.”

Lance doesn't respond. When Keith glances back, his neighbor is looking at him with a raised eyebrow and wry smile.

“... What?”

“Nothing.” Shrugging casually, Lance scoots back. “Just kinda doubting you really got it.”

Keith blinks. Then narrows his eyes.

Them’s fighting words.

“Yeah, well,” he says, turning back to Tom with a determined glint in his eye, “ _I got it_.”

*

He doesn't got it.

Tom, they quickly learn, does not tolerate being handled, like Sigur. He wriggles and writhes whenever Keith tries picking him up, kicking off his chest and dropping back down to the ground, where he then flops over to his side. He watches Keith, ears drawn back and tail thumping, as Keith inevitably makes the next attempt.

Soon, he brings claws into the picture.

“Hey!” Keith flinches and drops Tom again, cradling his scratch-riddled arm to his chest. So placing the carrier horizontally and lowering Tom into it from above was a bust. He's starting to run out of ideas. “What's your problem? You get in that cardboard box all the time!”

Lance, lounging back in Keith’s chair with his legs crossed and arms behind his head, thoroughly enjoys the show.

Keith pointedly ignores his neighbor as he chases after Tom yet again, growling out in frustration when the cat darts underneath his car. “Oh, come ON!” he grits, crawling to his hands and knees and seething at Tom. “It's me! Keith! Your buddy!”

He reaches inside, but Tom gives him a very sharp whap and even hisses at him, which honestly, kind of hurts his feelings a little.

“It's ME! KEEEEITH! YOUR -- RRGH!”

Cutting himself off, Keith releases an exasperated groan, and straightens to back away a little. He retreats back to Lance, crossing his arms and glaring at the car, planning to wait until Tom comes crawling out.

Lance is barely holding his laughter in. Sigur just rolls around on the deck. He doesn't even know where Pickles has run off to in all the commotion.

“Look,” Lance starts, smug grin clear in his voice. “That offer to help, still on the table. I've done this a lot, you know, and with much more difficult cats.”

Stubborn, Keith doesn't respond.

Lance sighs through his nose. Keith hears the chair creak as he leans back in it, lets the silence continue for a little bit. Then, Lance says smoothly, voice dripping with confidence, “Y’know, I bet you _couldn't_ accept my help with grace and pride intact.”

Keith lets the words sink in and slowly turns, incredulous. He says nothing, but his expression speaks volumes.

_Are you… are you trying to appeal to my competitive nature?_

Lance smirks back at him, his response also loud and clear in his eyes.

_Is it working?_

They have a brief staredown. Keith weighs his options, but after Lance’s challenge, it's hard to come up with any other response. Because damn it, he's already insinuated Keith can't accept defeat without his tail between his legs. And he knows what that'll look like. Pathetic.

Keith huffs. Rolls his eyes. But he still makes a point of stepping aside, gesturing out to the driveway in a wordless sweep of his arm.

Lance beams victoriously, hopping up out of his seat and rubbing his hands together.

“Excellent. Now - got any ham?”


	12. Chapter 12

Keith finds a pack of pre-sliced deli meat after rummaging around in his refrigerator. Reading over the label, he grimaces at the state of his arm, and digs for a first-aid kit before reappearing outside. He hands the deli meat over to Lance, who opens it and draws out a single thin slice.

Lance winks. “Now sit back and watch a pro do his work.”

Keith rolls his eyes, popping open the first-aid kit. He starts tending to the cuts on his arm as Lance faces the carrier toward Tom’s hiding spot, and then slips the slice inside.

Sigur immediately crawls into the cage.

“Ah-ah-ah, hey!” Lance tugs the cat out. Tucking him at his side, Lance steps back, chiding him lightly. “That's not for you, buddy. You've already sacrificed your manhood to the great beyond.”

Sigur lets himself be carried compliantly, white-tipped tail swaying idly. Holding him with one arm, Lance pulls out another slice of ham and offers it to Sigur in compensation. He sniffs at it with his cute little black nose, and then gobbles it up.

Lance keeps his hold on Sigur as he settles down on the porch next to Keith, who's still at work disinfecting his cuts. Lance whistles lowly. “Man, he really tore into you, huh?”

Keith only grumbles lightly, wrapping a bandage around his arm.

It doesn't take long before Tom reappears. He crawls out carefully, sniffing at the entrance of the cave. He clearly doesn't trust it, as he spends several minutes just studying it, but eventually he takes a tentative step inside.

Keith sits up, alert. He glances at Lance, whose playing with Sigur’s paws in his lap.

Soon Tom has his upper half in the cage, just enough to stretch as far as he can to get to the ham. As soon as he reaches it, he sinks his teeth into it and drags it out as he backtracks back to his hiding spot.

Keith groans. “Well that didn't work.”

“Don't be so quick to doubt me, young grasshopper,” Lance says, shifting to stand up. “Hold this.” He hands over Sigur to Keith, who blinks owlishly at the sudden cat in his face.

“Wh - uh.” Hesitantly, Keith lets Lance set the cat in his arms. Keith remains perfectly still, unsure of what to do, as Lance goes out to set another slice of ham in the carrier. Sigur just looks up at him innocently, with big eyes Keith just now notices are green.

So focused on Sigur is he that Keith doesn't notice Lance until he's back at Keith’s side, a knowing smile on his face. He doesn't ask for Sigur back, so Keith lets him stay in his arms, all watching the carrier for a second try.

Lance and Keith chat idly as they wait, the conversation flowing easily from his neighbor while Keith responds every once in awhile. They take turns scratching Sigur’s chin, whose eyes close happily at being spoiled.

Again, Tom shows up to inspect the carrier, sniffing around the entrance before stepping inside. When he quickly takes off with the ham, Keith gives Lance an incredulous look. “Are you planning on just using up all my lunch meat or are we going to actually catch him?”

“Patience, young grasshopper,” Lance says, clicking his tongue chidingly.

Keith would cross his arms if he could, but they're full of cat, so he just gives a scoff and continues to watch petulantly.

They repeat the cycle a few more times, Tom gradually growing more comfortable being around the carrier and less quick to get away once he realizes no one is going to snatch him up as soon as he steps in. That, of course, is precisely when Lance finally snatches him up.

Tom stays fully inside the cage as he chews up his fourth or fifth ham slice, Keith idly beginning to worry about his weight, when Lance comes tiptoeing around the corner from behind the car. He holds up a finger to his lips playfully, before silently pushing the carrier door and latching it closed. Tom doesn't even notice until he's done eating and turns around, nudging his head against the door only to find it stuck. He presses his head against it again, then paws at the metal gate before meowing pitifully.

“Aaaaaand gotcha.” Lance picks up the carrier, Tom stumbling a little inside with the movement. He meows again, pulling at Keith’s heartstrings. But Keith knows it's necessary. “Now that that’s finally over with, we can move on.” Standing by the car, Lance looks at Keith expectantly. “Have you already called the vet to arrange his surgery and shots?”

Keith, who was in the middle of carefully setting down Sigur so he could stand up, stills. He winces, averting his eyes and doesn't answer.

“Actually, nevermind,” Lance says, propping the cage on one hip so he could dig his phone out from his back pocket. “I can call when we’re on our way, save some time.”

Keith relaxes, releasing a sigh of relief. Then he registers Lance’s words. “Wait, ‘we?’”

“Well, yeah,” says Lance, casually scrolling through his phone. “You'll need someone showing you the way, right?”

“Mmmm,” Tom objects.

Keith wants to decline, say that Lance has already helped more than enough, but… well, he is right. Keith has no idea where the veterinary clinic is. “I… guess.” Stepping closer, he activates the keys and unlocks the doors.

Victorious, Lance slips inside the passenger side, keeping Tom and the cage in his lap.

“Road trip,” he whispers.

“A ten minute one, but sure,” Keith says as he opens the driver’s side and gets inside.


	13. Chapter 13

Sigur doesn't seem too interested in Tom’s colorful bird kick toy. He sniffs at it, but inches away whenever Keith tries wiggling it in his face.

Sighing, Keith leans back in his chair and lets the toy fall from his hand.

It was only yesterday when he and Lance took Tom to the vet, and they said they’d perform the surgery and shots the next day and then give him another twenty-four hours to recuperate before calling Keith to pick him up. Keith hated the way Tom meowed and whined the whole way down; he felt like a monster. It must have shown on his face, too, because Lance kept offering little comments of comfort. Keith knew they were only helping Tom, but there was no way he could understand that. They just snatched him up and took him someplace scary and strange.

So now here Keith is, a day later, sitting outside and Tom-less. He doesn't realize how much he misses the cat until he expects him to rub against his legs when he sits down, only for Tom to not be there. At least Keith actually knows where he is, this time, unlike the time with the storm.

“You think he’ll hate me now?” Keith asks, leaning back as he gazes up at the sky.

Neither Sigur nor Pickles answer him.

Keith’s eyes fall shut.

He lets the sounds of the outdoors flow over him. The chattering of birds in the trees, leaves swaying in the wind, bugs singing, a car passing by beyond the copse. They're the sounds he listens to everyday, but there's something missing. Sigur and Pickles are quiet cats; they barely ever meow. Tom, on the other hand, could carry on a conversation with Keith as much as he pleased. Without that constant chatter, the noise of the wilderness almost feels quiet.

It lulls him to a small doze.

He doesn't know how long it lasts, but he's woken up by a small “mrrp?” and a light pressure on his knee. Keith blinks his eyes open blearily, glancing down - and abruptly freezes.

Pickles is sitting right in front of him, or rather, half-standing, with one paw on his knee to give her leverage to stand up on her back legs and get a closer look. She trills inquisitively again, blue eyes bright and innocent as Keith feels his heart kick into overdrive. This is the closest she's ever been to him. He can now see the smallest gray patch on her otherwise pink nose, the small tufts of white fur coming out of her ears, the whiskers framing her face and eyes. He could reach out and pet her, but he doesn't dare move.

They watch each other, Keith pinned in place and waiting for her to make the next move. When she ends up lowering herself back down, he actually feels his heart sinking. But then he immediately jolts back to attention when Pickles springs back up, _right into his lap_.

“Mrr? Mrrp?”

She places her tiny front paws on his chest, leaning closer, almost right in his face, to sniff at him. Then she sits back, fluffy tail curled around her small body, as her blue eyes blink slowly.

Keith doesn't move.

The feeling of meeting a man’s eyes in defiant challenge right before a fist fight breaks out.

Of speeding down an empty highway in the desert on his motorcycle and breaking one hundred miles per hour.

When he found the old observation tower near the top of the mountain and scaled it, finding himself floating above the entire world.

They all pale in comparison to the thrill he’s feeling right now.

Then, Pickles starts to purr. It’s a gentle rumble, sweet and calming, accompanied by small movements of leaning on one paw, then the other, going back and forth. It takes Keith a few moments to realize she's kneading his stomach.

Wow. Lance was right; she really was affectionate once she became comfortable.

Oh god, Lance. Part of Keith really wants to break out into a sprint all the way over to Lacoste Farm so he can tell Lance about this moment, but he refuses to move as long as Pickles stays in his lap. He's also still too hesitant to try petting her, but that doesn't seem to deter her as she continues to purr and knead.

And knead.

And knead.

And knead some more.

When the sun starts to set and she's still going, Keith wonders if she'll only ever stop from outside intervention. Which may be a problem, since he's very unwilling to provide that intervention.

The crickets begin to chirp. An owl hoots. Moths gather around the porch light above.

Pickles stops kneading, but her motor still runs as strong as ever as she makes herself comfortable, shifts around, and finally settles down in a little ball in Keith's lap.

Uh oh.

“Hey…” he tries to coax. “You can't… you can't fall asleep here…”

She ignores him in favor of curling her paws inward, closing her sleepy eyes.

If Keith thought he could never move Pickles from his lap back when she was awake, then there's no way he can ever bring himself to push her off when she's sleeping. He is stuck.

Keith looks to Sigur pleadingly. “I have work in the morning.”

Sigur offers no help.

Trapped, Keith leans his head back and sighs.

*

They're still like that an hour later, but Keith eventually gathers up the courage to stroke gentle fingers down her back. Her fur is even softer than he imagined, and Keith smiles to himself.


	14. Chapter 14

It's hard to believe this is the same cat that used to hide away whenever Keith so much as made a noise, he thinks to himself as Pickles purrs happily in his lap.

He's discovered a lot about her in the last couple of days. She does, in fact, like it when he pets her, and will even lean her whole body weight into his hand whenever he scratches her cheek. Keith has to make sure not to pull away too soon, or else he worries she'll actually stumble and fall. She's - she's _clumsy_.

Keith can no longer sit down for longer than a minute without Pickles hopping into his lap with a chirp. His heart melts every single time. But he still has a problem with removing her whenever he needs to stand up - the first few times he shifted, she made the most pathetic little protesting noise, making him cease and sit right back down for another hour or two.

It's unavoidable when his cell phone rings, though. Keith’s kept it by his side for updates from the vet, and when the caller ID flashes across the screen he stares at it for several rings before finally working up to grabbing it.

Then a few more rings pass.

One more.

One more.

He finally answers it.

*

Tom is ready to be picked up. The surgery went just fine and there were no problems in his vaccinations. Keith breathes a sigh of relief when he ends the call, then glances down to Pickles, dead asleep with her face pressed into his stomach.

Keith leans down, whispering a soft “hey.”

Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Keith steels himself before just going for it. He carefully scoops his hands underneath her toasty warm tummy and begins to stand up. Pickles makes a Cat Activation Noise as she wakes up and he cradles her in his arms, stretching his legs out.

“Sorry,” he tells her, gently putting her down on the ground. “Got something important to do.”

Pickles sleepily performs her stretches, leaning down and reaching her front paws out as far as she can before stepping forward and doing the same with her back. She yawns, ears flattening back as she shows off her teeth to Keith, who offers her a few pets and strokes in apology.

He does the same to Sigur before taking off.

*

Tom's back in Keith’s yard later that evening. He’s a little lethargic, but otherwise normal. Keith doesn't try getting him to play with his bird toy or do anything too exerting, simply keeping an eye on Tom as he flops himself down next to Keith’s chair, just as always.

Keith feels a little relieved, somehow. That Tom is still willing to stay next to him.

Pickles immediately leaps up onto Keith's legs as soon as he sits down, which does grab Tom’s attention briefly. He raises his head to peer at them, back and forth between Keith and Pickles, but ultimately lays his head back down, tail swishing across the wood flooring.

Smiling, Keith reaches down to scratch Tom’s ears.

“Good to have you back, buddy.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cat video of the day](https://youtu.be/9sxMr4IdXaU) brought to you by: Lance, probably.

Keith decides to do something special for Tom’s return. Guy’s had it rough the last few days, and Keith can't help but want to make up to him for it.

That's what leads him to his kitchen, pulling out a small round can from a cabinet. He hasn't fed the three cats their dinner yet, so they're all gathered at his screen door, meowing impatiently. Keith smiles, rolling his eyes to himself at all the noise. When did they get so spoiled? When did he allow this to escalate so much?

Probably not the question to ask when he's pulling off the tab on a can of wet cat food, the smell of turkey and gravy immediately permeating through the air. The cats pause in their fussing, little noses wiggling - then start to demand even louder. Keith chides “you guys act like you haven't eaten in days,” as he scoops out the food and separates them into three little saucers.

So, yeah. He might have splurged a little on his last grocery run. It was just a small pack, but he figured he could save each can for a special occasion, or the weekend. He can do that, right? Just… not all of the time. Stuff’s expensive. Especially since he made sure to get the _good_ stuff, right, and not whatever was cheapest and least healthy. Lance would be proud.

The cats complain and whine all throughout his preparation, and when he finally opens the door, they swerve around his feet. Pickles stands up on her little back paws to try getting closer, sniffing the air, while Sigur nearly trips Keith up.

“Holy sh - alright! Here! Just take it!”

Keith all but drops the plates to the ground, stepping back as soon as the cats dive into their food. Pickles eats daintily, still making sure to keep aware of her surroundings, while Sigur practically inhales the wet food. Tom takes his time, licking the saucer fervently after he's done and looking at Keith expectantly.

Keith drops himself into his chair. “What have I done.”

He's created voracious monsters, that's what.

Sigur finishes first and tries sneaking into the others’ plates for scraps, stretching his neck out as he looks. Tom has none of that, growling and bapping him gently on the face. Sigur takes the hint, and saunters off to lay in the box. Ever since Pickles laid claim to Keith’s lap, she's pretty much abandoned her old hiding places and Sigur took over.

Speaking of Pickles. Keith hardly has a chance to open his book before she leaps up onto him and tries making herself at home right on the pages. Keith frowns, tugging it out and holding it above her head. They do that whenever he reads the newspaper, too. He has no idea why.

*

Keith hears Lance before he sees him.

He's whistling, the tune carrying through the trees before popping his head around the corner of the house with a grin.

“Heyyy. How's my main man Tom doing?”

“See for yourself,” Keith says, turning a page.

No response from Lance. Keith glances up to see him staring at him, and suddenly feels a little self-conscious for some reason. “Uh.”

“Holy crow!” Lance gestures at the scene - of Keith sitting casually with one cat in his lap and two around his feet. “When did this happen?!”

“When did - oh.” Keith remembers Lance hadn't seen the progression he's made with Pickles yet, and bites his lip to keep himself from grinning proudly. “Well… your tips helped out a lot, and you were right. She’s ridiculously clingy.”

Lance beams as he comes closer, reaching out to stroke a hand down Pickles’ back. He seems to almost forget why he came until Tom rubs his side against his leg. Lance immediately coos, plopping himself down on the ground to lavish his attentions on Tom. He plays with Tom’s left ear (“Look at you! The notch suits you! Who's a rugged tough kitty, huh?”), scratches his chin, even plants a kiss on Tom’s forehead with a loud ‘mwah!’

Lance is so excited, it's almost contagious. Keith can't help but smile shyly, listening to his neighbor ramble on and on about how long it took for Pickles to warm up to him, or the first time he saw Sigur, and even talks about some of the other cats that live in the neighborhood. Keith wonders if he'll get the chance to meet more of them.

Keith watches Lance a lot. Lance fawning over Tom, checking his surgical incision, laughing as Tom’s expression gradually shifts from preening to annoyance. Keith doesn't really know how to describe Lance, but ‘attentive’ may be a good start. Attentive. Lance is the one who offered covering for Tom’s surgery in the first place, then gave Keith the carrier, gave him directions to the vet, and is now back to check up on him. He really doesn't have to. But it's like something drives him to go above and beyond and to just be there in case he's needed. To make the first move.

So, yeah. Lance is a very attentive kind of friend.

Keith peers very closely at Lance, wondering if he focuses enough, Lance will pick up on the fact that Keith is almost out of strawberry jam again and simply offer to bring him some without any prompting.

_Talk about jam_ , he thinks, staring hard. _Bring me jam. Jam. Strawberry jam._

Turns out Lance isn't quite attentive enough to pick up on that memo.


	16. Chapter 16

Keith is in an exceptionally Terrific mood today.

For a number of reasons.

One: he got his first raise. That made his day Good. And Keith knows he should have deposited the extra into his savings account like a well-functioning adult, but instead he used it to move on to Number Two:

He bought some more cat toys. A feather teaser, a brush, and some plastic jingling balls - but what he really ended up splurging on was a single level cat tree. It's really more a simple platform than anything, with a carpeted top and a column made for scratching. It comes up to about the height of the porch chair’s armrests.

Tom always spends the afternoons lying around Keith’s feet, but Keith wonders how he'd take to the cat tree. Pickles has more or less laid claim to Keith’s lap as her territory, but he'd like the opportunity to pet Tom a little more often.

He’d also finally asked Lance for more strawberry jam during their last visit, and so when Keith drives up to the house, he’s already there waiting with the cats. Holding the jar in his hands instantly makes Keith’s day Great, as Reason Number Three.

“You know, we do sell more than just jam,” Lance points out, laughing. “We also make jelly, preserves, and the actual strawberries. Sometimes we make strawberry shortcake, but we only sell those at the farmer’s market. And the dairy farm makes their strawberry ice cream from our strawberries, so they have that too.”

Keith stares at him with a blank expression of pure internal distress.

“Or you could just stick with jam, yeah.”

Since Lance is there, Keith goes ahead and takes out his new purchases. They set up the basic tree, all three cats curiously inspecting it before Sigur hops into the box it came in. Pickles ends up being the first to climb it, circling around the flat top - but as soon as Keith sits down, she's right back in her special spot.

He's relieved when Tom takes to the tree. The cat stretches out his paws, claws extending and dragging down the rough material of the column before hopping up and making himself comfortable. Smiling, Keith reaches over and pets him easily.

Lance brings out the teaser and starts playing with Sigur. Keith thinks at first it's a wasted effort on the outrageously laid back cat, but as always Lance seems to have something up his sleeve and manages to entice Sigur into batting at the brightly colored feathers. Lance dances it away, just out of reach, and Sigur lowers with ears flat back. With a brief wiggle of his rump, he pounces.

Keith's day is officially Terrific, and his mood reflects as such. He bites his lip to keep himself from grinning too widely as he leans back in his chair and idly pet both cats in arm’s reach, but it's hard when Lance is so obviously enjoying himself with Sigur.

Lance shakes the teaser enticingly, bouncing it away whenever Sigur tries catching it in his paws. He slowly leads the cat up the patio railing, and Sigur balances like a gymnast on the beam, creeping ever closer and preparing for another pounce. He's so focused, with his eyes dilated and body low, that it's no wonder they make such excellent natural predators. Both Lance and Keith wait with bated breath.

Tom sneezes.

Sigur jumps and falls off the rail. He claws at the wood and stares at Keith with wide eyes, expression the epitome of ‘oh crap’ before ultimately slipping off and down, landing safely on his feet.

Lance snorts, but Keith? Keith full-blown bursts out laughing. He's shaking with it, throwing his head back and jolting Pickles. It's the loudest he's ever laughed in years, probably. And he just can't stop. Every time he thinks he's recovered, breathing heavy and cheeks red, he just - he just takes one more look at Sigur and it starts all over again. Sigur saunters away casually to his box, with the classic cat ‘I totally meant to do that’ attitude, which somehow just makes it all the more hilarious to Keith.

His stomach hurts by the time he manages to calm down enough to remember Lance, who's staring at him with an expression Keith can't decipher.

Keith, sobering, asks, “What?”

Lance shakes his head, grinning. “Nothing.”

*

They play with the cats for a little longer, their antics pulling a few more genuine laughs out of Keith. He tries using the teaser some, but either they aren't interested when it's him or he's just not very good at the art of enticement. Either way, Lance ends up using it the most. Keith tosses some of the jingling balls at them, smiling when they bat at them.

He thinks his day couldn't possibly get any better, but then at dusk, two more cats show up.

Not one.

Two.

Two entire cats.

They stand close together at the edge of the forest, watching their play with curious eyes. Keith can't get too good a look at them from their distance but he can see one is bigger, fluffy and white, and the other is a shorthair with tortoiseshell coloring.

When Keith quietly points them out to Lance, Lance immediately bounces up and yells.

“ANTOINETTE!” he shouts. “NICKI MEOWNAJ!”

Keith gapes. He wanted to be cautious and not scare them away, but thankfully they don't seek perturbed by Lance’s volume. But more importantly…

“Do not tell me that name was your doing.”

Lance only smirks at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. It may be a while before I go back to rapid-fire updates. But I still have plenty to write for this AU!


	17. Chapter 17

Antoinette is an odd-eyed cat: one blue, one brown. Keith comes to find this when Lance runs out to the cats, sweeping the fluffy white one in his arms and holding her like a baby as he returns to Keith.

“Are you two following me? Huh? Think I'm off cheating on you with other cats?” Lance nuzzles his nose in the white cat’s face as the tortie trots alongside him, tail standing up straight.

“These two are pretty special,” Lance says as he settles back down next to Keith, Antoinette still curled up on her back like a docile baby.

“Yeah?” says Keith, unable to mask his curiosity.

“Yeah.” Lance stares fondly at both of them. “They’re what some people might call a bonded pair. You never see one without the other. Eating, grooming, playing, hunting - it's always together. And if they’re ever separated, they get way stressed out. They’re also really attached to our farm. Haven't seen them anywhere else in years. Until now --” Lance teasingly pokes at Antoinette’s belly, while Nicki Meownaj hops up to sit next to him, close by. “Because apparently I have some stalkers.”

Getting stalked by cats doesn't sound too bad, Keith thinks. He leans closer to Lance, studying Antoinette’s heterochromia. She stares back, purring.

“So if you named Nicki, who named Antoinette?”

Lance clears his throat. “Excuse me, but her name is _Nicki Meownaj_ , and she will thank you to remember it.”

“Mrah,” says Nicki Meownaj.

“Anyway,” Lance continues, “that would be my brother-in-law. Naturally, I suggested Meowrie Antoinyatte instead, but I guess the world wasn't quite ready for such two awesome names so close together.”

Pickles apparently decides that the extra commotion is too much for her, and chooses that moment to squirm around on Keith’s lap before finally hopping down and skittishly hiding away, which honestly, kinda breaks Keith’s heart a little. He had thought she was okay with other cats, but maybe there's still a limit for her.

Either way, there must be something showing on his face, because then Lance casually places Antoinette in Keith’s lap without preamble. “Hold her like this. She likes it,” he says, showing Keith how to cradle her the way he did, on her back and paws curled up in the air.

It also enables Nicki Meownaj to draw closer to Keith, perhaps not quite trusting him yet with her bonded favorite and making sure to keep a close eye on him. He tries making sure to treat Antoinette extra gentle. When she's ready to be let down, she all but rolls off Keith’s lap, and Nicki Meownaj immediately begins to groom her face. Smiling, Keith leans back in his chair and strokes a hand down Tom’s back, who'd been dozing away in his new cat tree all afternoon. He listens to Lance’s stories about the bonded pair, watching as they curled up together for a nap.

It really is a good day.

*

Antoinette and Nicki Meownaj don't stay at Keith’s place to be fed, like the others. They disappear not long after Lance leaves, and Keith supposes they really were following after him. He wonders if they'll show up again, sometime.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cat video of the day](https://youtu.be/_teB4ujKzdE) brought to you by: Keith, who probably has to keep pausing these kinds of videos every few seconds because he's laughing so hard.

Keith is pretty sure if he ever had a full free day with no obligations, he would spend the entirety doing nothing but watching these cats.

Pickles has really come out of her shell in the time he's known her. Before, she mostly tolerated the presence of Tom and Sigur, who groomed her once in awhile or bumped heads with her to exchange scents. But today, Keith sits back in his chair and watches as Pickles leaps out to catch Tom in a pounce. Tom rolls on the ground and kicks back with his hind legs, his signature move perfected by hours with his bird-kick toy.

The first time it happened, Keith all but flew up out of his seat in alarm, worried that they were legitimately fighting. But with the lack of yowling and spitting, neither of their hackles raised, he eventually relaxed and began simply observing.

They weren't fighting. They were _playing_.

And it's the most entertained Keith has been in months.

Pickles, in all her clumsy glory, flops back ridiculously easy whenever Tom baps her, and she looks up at him from her upside down position, lying on the ground with ears flat back and tail thumping madly. Tom mirrors her expression and they have a brief stare-down, before finally going in for the kill and leaping onto her. She wriggles out from underneath and sprints across the yard, Tom quickly giving chase, even running up a tree and back down.

Sigur, meanwhile, has taken residence in the box and keeps himself occupied with grooming. He bathes his face first, licking his paw and wiping it over his brow, before gradually moving onto his stomach and then hind legs. His toes stretch out, back claws extending, as he cleans diligently before getting distracted by a frantic Pickles as she flashes across his vision running away from Tom. Sigur immediately forgets what he was doing, tongue hanging out in a blep and sticking h legy out real far as he watches the other cats chasing one another.

Delighted doesn't even begin to cover Keith's feelings at the entire scene.

*

He stays out there well beyond a reasonable hour, doing nothing but enjoying the cats’ antics. They start to settle down sometime after dusk, the lulling crickets and gentle warm night air producing a calming effect.

Tom, exhausted, plops himself on his tree and stretches out on his back. Keith has learned more than enough by now not to be tempted - even if he appears too tired to move - and resists brushing his fingers through that belly fur. Sigur stays by Keith’s feet, and Pickles?

Pickles hops up into his lap like always, but this time Keith immediately notices something different.

“What's that in your mouth?”

The cat looks up at him with those brilliant bright eyes, and lets a small navy blue ribbon unfurl from her teeth.

“Prrp?”

Keith tenderly picks it up with careful fingers, smoothing over the sleek surface that's been marred by dirt and teeth marks.

“This yours?” he asks.

Pickles turns her back to him and settles down, curling herself into a little ball on his lap. Keith, a little lost, glances back and forth between her and the ribbon.

“Is this… for me?”

She doesn't answer. But Keith smiles softly to himself, feeling warm, and pockets the ribbon for safekeeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith got his first memento!
> 
> Next chapter will finally get to some plot I've been wanting to write since the very beginning, so I'm very excited and I hope you enjoy!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for animal death in this chapter. It's none of the previously established cats, but there's a summary at the end just in case.

It's a long day at work. Keith doesn't end up leaving until it's nearly dark out, and has to slow down on his motorcycle as he veers around the curves. The trees above produce a facsimile of a strobe-light effect with the dying sun, threatening to black out completely within the hour and forcing his eyes to narrow in concentration.

Keith’s never been a fan of driving in the dark. Especially not once he's moved here, where there's always something to look at as he traverses through the mountainside. Shadows overtake the green farmland, cliffside carvings, and vintage houses he passes by. It's actually a bit of a shame; the commute back home is one of his favorite parts of the day, second only to feeding the cats their dinner.

That thought, at least, raises his spirits a little. It's also the weekend, which gives him all the time he wants to sit outside and enjoy the quiet nature along with the cats. Maybe he’ll even go on a hike back up the old observation tower, if the weather’s good enough. Maybe Lance will come up and Antoinette and Nicki Meownaj will follow him.

Keith finds himself smiling easily, previous disappointments forgotten as he leans into another sharp curve.

When he realigns himself and straightens, the good mood he’s been building up suddenly dissolves as he passes by something lying motionless on the side of the road.

A cat.

He turns his head, stomach dropping low, and manages to get only a glimpse of it before the darkness of night hides it again. Looking back to the road, Keith feels a strange numbness sinking in.

It didn't look like any of the cats he's seen. But it was most certainly dead. Perhaps hit by a car as it tried crossing the road. It's not an uncommon thing; Keith’s passed by all sorts of animals who've met the same fate in his time living here, even other cats. But that was before he met Tom and the others. Before he learned about the community of cats the whole neighborhood helps take care of. Before he started looking at cats with awe and wonder, curious about their personality and story.

He wonders if Lance would have known that cat.

Keith drives the rest of the way home feeling heavy, eyes downcast as he pulls in the driveway and kicks the stand down. The cats immediately gather around him with begging eyes and whining meows, not used to having to wait so long for him to come home and feed them. He smiles bittersweetly, chiding them gently as he goes inside the house to prepare their food. At first he reaches for the bag of kibble, but the cold image of the cat lying on the road flashes unbidden through his mind. That could happen to any of them.

He reaches for the canned food. The cats all crowd at the door at the sound of the lid being popped, oblivious to why they were suddenly being spoiled but eager all the same. He separates the wet food into three bowls and brings them outside, setting them down on the porch. Everyone digs in, making wet chewing noises as Keith steps back and watches fondly. He feels for the soft navy blue ribbon in his pocket, thumb idly rubbing back and forth. Pickles making a ‘mnah mnah mnah’ noise whenever Sigur creeps too close to her share draws a genuine laugh out of Keith.

His house is up on a hilly area surrounded by green grass and bordered by forestry. The roads are not visible from where he is, but he still hears the sound of a car as it passes by, making him still.

“Stay away from the roads,” he tells them. The cats don't respond in favor of eating, but he sees their ears twitch in his direction. “Please, just… don't go near them. Please.” He swallows. “Please.”

*

He can't stop thinking about that cat.

Keith tries occupying himself with the others, but the memory keeps coming back. But what can he do? It's already gone. He can't save it.

But the thought of its body just lying out there…

It's when the rest are finished with their dinner that Keith makes his decision. Quietly, he stands up and retreats inside. He changes his biking gear for soft pants and a hoodie, searches a cabinet for an old bedsheet, and fishes for his car keys and a flashlight out from his bedside drawer. When he steps outside, the cats are all settling down for a grooming session, and without a word Keith opens the trunk of his car to toss the bedsheet in, and slips into the driver's seat. He turns the ignition with a new determination set in his brow.

*

It's fully dark by now. Keith has his bright lights on as he drives at a crawling pace, keeping an eye out for the body around the area he thinks he saw it. Thankfully barely anyone’s on the road at this hour.

He knows there's nothing he can do to help now. That it's already too late, what's happened has happened, and animals die the same way every day. But the thought of just leaving it out here…

At the very least, he can give it a proper place to rest.

It's several miles out before his headlights catch over the small furry lump at the side of the road, and Keith pulls over close by. Grabbing his flashlight, he clicks it on and retrieves the bedsheets from the trunk, and slowly makes his way over.

He crouches down beside the cat, heart heavy in his chest.

It was… a clean hit, at least. The body is fully intact, so it couldn't have been more than a strike to the head. Keith strokes a finger softly down the side of its face. It's a calico - Keith remembers Lance mentioning once that the vast majority of calicoes were female. He checks the ears. No notch. So it wasn't a community cat, nor had it been fixed. An unknown stray. Hadn't lived long enough to receive a name.

Eyes downcast, Keith unfolds the bed sheet and prepares to wrap the body. As soon as he touches it, the silence in the air is ripped apart by a shrill, high pitched squeak, so sudden and loud that Keith falls on his backside in shock.

“Wh - what --”

He shines the light down on the body, catching some movement by the cat’s abdomen. When Keith realizes what he’s looking at, his lips part, eyes wide.

There by its mother, pathetically pawing at one of her nipples, was the squirming form of a tiny, helpless kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith passes by a dead cat that had been hit by a car on the side of the road, and the image upsets him throughout returning home and feeding the others. He decides to go retrieve the body and bury it, only to discover the cat was a mother and its kitten survived.


	20. Chapter 20

Keith stares at the scene before him, brain quickly catching up. A kitten. A _kitten_. The cat was a mother, and this tiny little wriggling thing has been out here for who knows how long trying in vain to seek comfort from its dead mother and --

Oh, man.

Oh, man.

“Oh, man,” Keith whispers. This is - this is a lot. It's probably the last thing he’d expected to encounter when he came out here, but now that he is here, he knows he has to do something about it. There’s no way he could possibly leave it here alone. It would die, with certainty.

He can think more about it later. He needs to act now.

Keith reaches out, carefully scooping the little kitten up, and - and oh god, it's small enough to fit in _the palm of his hand_. How can anything be this small?! Heart pounding in his chest, Keith shines the flashlight up and down the area, looking for signs of any other kittens. Cats can have more than one in a litter, right?

He doesn't find any others, though. And with every movement he makes, the kitten only cries louder with sharp squeals of distress that pull at his heart. “Shh,” he says, trying to remember how Lance always manages to soothe cats with his voice. “It's - it's gonna be okay. Okay? I'll, uh, I’ll take care of this. I got it. It's gonna be alright.”

Not sure if he's speaking more to the kitten or himself, Keith carefully slides the kitten into the pouch of his hoodie as gently as he can, freeing his hands to finally wrap the mother cat in the bedsheet. He feels the kitten squirming in his pocket as he cradles the body and brings it back to his car, placing it inside the trunk with care. After shutting it, he quickly gets inside and turns the key.

Keith drives with one hand on the wheel as he makes it back home, the other slipping inside his hoodie pocket to cup around the tiny kitten. He can feel it writhing, its little paws pushing at his fingers as it cries out, muffled.

“Sorry!” he says, a little helpless. “I’ll - I’ll get you a better place for you to sleep in when we get back. I have boxes. I’ll get you a box. And milk. Do you like milk? I --” Keith cuts himself off, then groans. “Don't have any milk.”

The kitten squeaks.

“But that's okay! I can buy some. I'll get you milk and a bed and everything’s going to be fine. It's fine. I can do this.”

He pulls the car up in the dirt patch of the driveway, slow enough for the other cats to saunter out of the way before changing the gear and cutting it off.

“I can do this.”

*

Keith can't do this.

He realizes this several minutes after bringing the kitten in. The first thing he does upon entering is frantically look for a spare box, which he manages to find quickly. He tosses a throw blanket in, and withdraws the kitten from his hoodie, placing it inside. The kitten rolls around on its back, crying out, and Keith winces. He helps turn it over onto its feet, stroking a finger down its back as it wobbles.

For the first time, he gets a close look at the little kitten. Its color is different from the mother cat, mostly orange with a white patch on its chest and stomach. There’s something small and black in the middle of its tummy that Keith thinks is debris at first, but when he tries brushing it away he sees it's attached to the skin, so he leaves it alone. It doesn't have its eyes open. When it mews, Keith sees a pink mouth and tongue - no teeth. It's too unstable to walk, instead crawling on unsteady paws and occasionally rolling on its back with limbs sticking up in the air. It always becomes distressed whenever that happens, so Keith dutifully nudges it back upright.

He ends up sitting there just… watching it, for a little bit. It's. Oh, god. It's so cute. It's quite possibly one of the cutest things he's ever seen in his life. So small and helpless and --

Right, helpless. That's why he needs to focus so he can _help_ it.

Shaking his head out of his reverie, Keith stands up and retreats to his room in search of his laptop. When he's back, he spots all three of the other cats crowding around his front door, peering in curiously through the screening and noses twitching. They're probably wondering what on earth could be making all that racket, Keith supposes. Settling down next to the box, Keith opens his laptop and begins researching on how to take care of orphaned kittens.

That is, subsequently, when Keith starts to realize he can't do this.

First thing it asks is how old the kitten is. Keith has no idea. Apparently a kitten’s needs adjusts a lot in the first several months, but he doesn't know where to begin. Also, kittens don't drink milk. Not like people do. They need kitten formula, with specific instructions on how to prepare it, and need to be fed with a syringe or bottle and there are entire videos on how to set that up alone, and also kittens apparently can't regulate their own body heat (Keith immediately shoves his hand into the box for the kitten to crawl to upon reading this) and need some kind of heating pad, and they need to be watched over and fed around the clock pretty much twenty-four seven and how on earth did he ever possibly think he could handle this?! He doesn't know a thing about taking care of kittens. He doesn't actually know anything about cats.

… But he knows someone who does.

Keith scrambles, dashing back to his room and digging in his drawer for his cell phone and a notebook he hasn't looked at since he first moved in here. He pulls it out and immediately flips through the first page, eyes scanning.

When he finds what he's looking for, Keith doesn't think. He just acts.

He enters the number and holds phone to his ear, listening to the quiet ringing. It's only when someone finally answers that Keith’s brain catches up to what he just did.

“ _Lacoste Farm residence!_ ” answers a young girl’s voice.

Keith freezes.

“ _Hello?_ ” says the voice.

“I’m - stf - th - uh.” Damn it. Damn it! Why can't he ever get the words out when he does this? Get it together, Keith. This is important.

He tries again, stuttering a few more times and growing increasingly frustrated with himself. Thankfully the little girl seems to be patient, since she hasn't hung up on him yet. Taking a deep breath, Keith closes his eyes and speaks slowly, carefully enunciating each word.

“Can I please speak to Lance.”

“ _Uh-huh!_ ”

Keith hears the little girl as she shuffles through the house, feet stomping on hard wood and stairs, before stopping. “ _May I ask who is calling?_ ” she says, the phrase sounding recited.

“Keith.”

“ _Okay!_ ” More stomping. Soon he hears her calling out for “ _Tío Leandro!_ ” and then some static where he can't hear anything. His heart pounds as he waits, glancing out to the box with the kitten.

Eventually there's the sound of someone else picking up the phone.

“ _Hello? Keith?_ ”

“Lance,” Keith breathes in relief. “I need your help.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Video ref](https://youtu.be/ZnvAvIVmTMg) for the kitten at its current age.

“Alright, alright, alright, alright, alright,” Lance says, immediately slipping by Keith and rushing inside as soon as Keith opens the door. Hoisting an enormous floral print tote bag over his shoulder, Lance bounces on the balls of his feet as he stands in the middle of the small entryway, glancing back and forth. “So.” He looks at Keith. “Where's our little bundle of joy?”

“Uh.” Quickly, Keith closes the door and passes by Lance, leading the way. “Over here.”

Lance follows him into the main room of the small house, the only other doorways leading to Keith’s bedroom and a bathroom. There’s a kitchen area off to the side by the entrance, and a main living area where the kitten is still fussing up a storm inside its box on the coffee table. Lance draws to the box and peers inside, whispering an awed “oh” at the sight. “Hey there, little one,” he says gently, looking over the squirming kitten. It mews loudly, and Lance smiles. “Strong set of lungs - that's good to know.” Quickly standing up, he makes his way over to the kitchen area. “First thing’s first, though. Dunno if you've been doing it yourself, but just for future reference you should always wash your hands before handling the little one,” Lance instructs as he begins dutifully scrubbing his hands, soaping thoroughly before rinsing and toweling off.

Keith averts his eyes, a little embarrassed. He definitely hasn't been washing his hands. But Lance doesn't bring it up again as he returns to the kitten and gets right down to business, shrugging off the tote bag to the floor and reaching inside the box. He picks up and holds the kitten carefully, so carefully in his hands, despite its wriggling and crying. Keith finds himself coming closer, eyes wide as he watches the way Lance studies it.

The kitten releases its loudest indignant squeal yet, and Lance chuckles. “You're a little ginger snap, aren't ya…” He turns it this way and that, then maneuvers it to get a look at its belly. “Still has a bit of umbilical cord attached,” he says when he sees the small black debris on its tummy. “You can't be any older than a week. A few days, at most.”

Keith feels his knees go weak.

A few days.

Just a few days.

This little thing hadn't existed at all until just a few days ago.

And already it's lost its mother.

“Alright,” Lance whispers then, and Keith isn't sure if Lance is speaking to him or not. “Let’s do this.” Settling the kitten back down, he turns to Keith, grabbing for the tote bag. “Can I use your kitchen?”

Keith blinks, then nods. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

Lance smiles gratefully. “Thanks.”

Keith backs out of the way as Lance makes himself at home in the kitchen, pulling out several items from his bag and arranging them all on the countertop. First thing he does is put a disk-like object into the microwave and sets it on for a few minutes, then pours some water in Keith’s coffee maker and turns it on. Finally he draws out a large can of what Keith sees is powdered kitten formula, scooping some out and mixing it with water.

He’s strangely quiet as he works. Keith hangs back awkwardly, glancing back and forth from Lance to the kitten’s box, unsure what to do. “Is there… anything I can do to help?”

“Nah.” Lance continues to stir. “Thanks, though.”

It's silent for several long moments, save for the hum of the microwave running and the bubbling of the coffee maker as it boils water. Keith doesn't realize until then just how much he relied on Lance being the one to carry on their conversations. He doesn't want to bother Lance and interrupt, but it feels almost weird for him to be so quiet.

“Sorry,” Lance suddenly says, as if reading Keith’s thoughts. “I can't really…” He drifts off as he pours the formula into a small bottle. “… talk and focus --” This time he's interrupted by the ding of the microwave, and he rushes over to take out the heating pad.

Nearly a whole minute passes before he finally finishes lamely, “… at the same time.”

He looks almost embarrassed, but Keith can't help but find it endearing. And relieving, to have someone putting his all into making sure the kitten is well taken care of. With Lance around, he doesn't feel so helpless.

“I'll tell you what,” Lance starts again, “let me just get some food in the little one’s belly, and then I can answer any questions you have and show you how for next time, yeah?”

“Y… yeah.” Keith tries not dwelling on the fact that Lance apparently thinks Keith is nearly competent enough to handle the kitten, taking a step backwards toward the door. “Sounds good.” Glancing to the side, he catches his parked car outside, and remembers. There is still something he needs to do. He turns back to Lance. “I'll be outside, then.”

He doesn't say why, but from the way Lance’s eyes turn somber, he probably already knows.

*

Keith brings a shovel out to the edge of his property, making his way through the first several yards of forestry before finding a good place to dig. The cats don't follow him, having gone off to do whatever it is during the night whenever Keith is sleeping. It's already long past the usual hour he goes to sleep, the excitement of the day keeping him wide awake.

The crickets and nocturnal animals are nearly deafening, and moths come attracted to Keith’s flashlight. He carefully watches his step, avoiding roots and critters. Eventually he comes to a stop between two large oak trees with a wide, flat berth of dirt and foliage. Setting his flashlight down on a large flat slab of rock, Keith gets to work.

He doesn't know how much time he spends out there digging. He knows he doesn't want a shallow grave, something that could easily be dug up or washed away with the next storm. It's those thoughts that keeps him digging deeper, deeper, and deeper. His jeans grow filthy with dirt, his hoodie sleeves pulled up, and his palms burn with friction, but he keeps digging until he's satisfied, wiping the sweat off his brow as he studies over his work.

Keith leaves.

But then he soon returns with the mother cat cradled in his arms. He keeps her concealed in the bedsheet, as it just doesn't feel right to him to bury her bare in the dirt, and carefully lowers her into the grave. It's with that strange numbness that he then takes the shovel and starts filling it back up, almost mechanically. More work that leaves his hands burning, his neck sweating, lungs panting.

When it's full he pats the dirt down, leaving the space between the trees with a noticeable patch of upturned ground. Before he leaves, Keith takes the slab of rock from earlier and sets it over the center, brushing dirt out of the way and indenting it a little to keep it firmly in its spot.

Keith sits there crouched for a few minutes, simply staring at the makeshift grave, words running through his mind but never leaving his lips. Wondering. Contemplating. Promising.

Then he finally gets up with a stretch. With the shovel and flashlight in hand, he turns around and follows the path of light his house leaves for him.


	22. Chapter 22

Lance sits hunched over in the couch, his phone out and thumbs dancing across the screen when Keith returns inside. The box is completely silent. Keith feels his heart thud.

Shucking off his dirty boots, Keith hastens closer and stands by Lance, who glances up from his phone as Keith peers inside. “Oh, hey --”

A rush of air leaves his lungs when Keith finds the kitten only sleeping. Limbs finally weak, he flops himself onto the cushion next to Lance, leaning his head back. “Hey.”

“You alright?” Lance nudges his shoulder a little.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.” Keith drags a hand down his face, then looks back to the box. “What about the kitten?”

Said kitten is curled up in a tight little ginger ball next to a lump in the blankets, its belly round and full of warm kitten formula. It twitches in its sleep, little paws jerking out as it dreams. Lance has made something like a nest out of the blanket, surrounding the kitten so it's less open in the air. Keith doesn't remember the last time he's seen anything so cozy.

“Good to go for the next couple hours,” says Lance. “Little ginger snap was very lively, which is always a good thing. You don't know how long they were out there?”

Keith shakes his head. “No.”

“Well,” Lance sighs, locking his phone and dropping it by his side so he can scoot up and get a closer look with Keith, “she looks very healthy, all things considered. Couldn't have been out there for more than several hours, I think. Going back for them… it's a good thing, what you did. You saved her life.”

Normally Keith wouldn't know how to respond to something like that, but he's been too distracted by a certain detail to really listen. “She?”

“Ah, yeah. I checked when I helped her potty. It’s really hard to tell for certain at this age, though - little ginger snap could always turn out to be a male that just needed a few days to develop the boys. It's happened before, but…” Lance smiles softly, gazing down at the sleeping kitten. “For now, I think we have a little princess on our hands.”

The kitten chooses that moment to stretch her tiny limbs out as far as she can and yawn, her pink mouth toothless and tongue curled, before sleepily   
snuggling back into her comfy ball shape.

Keith feels himself melt.

*

They have a couple hours to kill before the next time the kitten needs to be fed. Keith, unused to hosting guests, awkwardly asks if Lance wants anything, but Lance politely says no. That happens to be the moment Lance turns to look at Keith fully, his eyes glancing down, and smiles.

“Mothman. Cool.”

Keith blinks, confused. Then he looks down at his hoodie, finally remembering as the design of the cryptid in an intimidating pose stares back up at him. “Oh, uh. Yeah.”

“Ever been to Point Pleasant?”

“That's where I got it, yeah.”

“Nice.”

Keith omits the part where he's been there multiple times.

It's easy to fall back into their usual casual conversations, after that. The fact that it's late at night and they're keeping watch over a neonatal kitten doesn't seem to hinder that. Nor does the change of location. Keith thinks this is the first time anyone has ever actually been inside his house - not even the cats would come inside whenever he held the door open for them in curiosity. They would stand right at the threshold, noses sniffing for food, but never actually stepped inside. To have Lance inside like it was nothing felt strangely vulnerable.

Lance explains how he was able to come so well prepared; his older sister fosters sometimes, and had recently finished fostering an abandoned litter for their local shelter. What he came with was what was leftover from that. Keith couldn't feel more grateful for the situation. If Lance didn't happen to have supplies ready, he would have had to wait until morning for the pet supply store to open, leaving the kitten without food all throughout the night. From what Keith had researched earlier, she may not have been able to survive that.

After a while Keith turns on the TV just to have something fill the space whenever they have a lull in conversation, but they both end up keeping their eyes on the kitten anyway. She doesn't move much except for her dreaming twitches, but Keith thinks he could spend literal hours just watching her. It's been previously established that she's cute, okay?

*

He doesn't know how much time has passed when Lance’s phone chimes, and he turns to Keith with a grin.

“Wanna help feed her?”


	23. Chapter 23

Lance shows him the routine of how to prepare the bottle, after they wash their hands thoroughly. How to mix the milk, warm it, test the temperature, make sure it flows well, etc. He's able to go slow and demonstrate, answering any of Keith’s questions, now that the previous panic of getting food into the kitten’s belly as fast as possible has passed. For this feeding, Lance decides to do most of the work and let Keith observe, since he missed out on the first.

With the formula warm, scale set up, and towel draped over a throw pillow, Lance makes himself comfortable next to Keith on the couch, both taking a moment to stare at the sleeping kitten. Then, with a smile, Lance reaches in and picks her up.

Keith immediately grows alarmed when the kitten wakes up and starts breathing weird. She makes a noise like a sneeze, though it certainly didn't look like one, and she pants out over and over, like --

“What's wrong,” he asks, leaning closer. “What - why’s she doing that? Can she breathe?”

He looks at Lance helplessly, fidgeting in his seat. But Lance isn't panicking - in fact, he's staring at the kitten with a grin, his brows raised. “Keith, this little stinker is hissing at me,” he laughs, turning the kitten to face Keith.

She makes another one of those spitting noises at him. Keith just blinks slowly.

“... That's a hiss?”

He's seen cats hissing, before. One time Pickles tried goading Tom into playing when he wasn't in the mood, which eventually resulted in him snapping a sharp hiss and growl of warning, his sharp teeth bared and ears folded back. Pickles left him alone after that, and even Keith kept his distance, not wanting to bother him. So yeah, he knows what a cat hissing looks like, and it can look pretty startling.

This? This is just precious.

“Oh, you're such a tough girl,” Lance coos. “So fierce and ferocious.” Laying her out in one of his palms, he gently strokes down her back a few times. “Is our little ginger snap cranky when she gets woken up?”

As if in answer, the kitten stops hissing and makes a little “mrr” noise, stretching her paws out and squirming. Her mews gradually grow stronger as she wakes up and realizes she's hungry, soon crying out just as loud as she did when Keith first brought her in.

“Alright, alright, we hear you.” Lance looks at Keith. “You ready?”

Keith grabs the pillow and lays it over his lap, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Okay, so…” Scooting closer, Lance places the kitten on the pillow and hands Keith the bottle. “You're gonna wanna hold her head up, like so.”

Keith makes a few attempts to hold her in place, but hesitates, not wanting to hold her too tight. It only gives her more room to wriggle around, mewling pathetically.

Ah, man. He's bad at this.

Thankfully Lance comes to his rescue. “Here,” he says, placing his hand on top of Keith’s and guiding him. “You can be a little stern with her, do what you need to make sure she gets that milk, yeah?”

With both Keith and Lance holding her in place, the kitten releases a few whines, but settles down. With the bottle in hand, Keith tries lightly nudging the nipple at her mouth to get her to open, but she doesn't. Some milk dribbles over her mouth, and she starts squirming again.

He's _really_ bad at this.

“Don't worry if she doesn't latch on,” Lance says, his voice quiet and gentle as he strokes a finger down the kitten’s cheek. He still has his other hand covering Keith’s, warm and secure. “She didn't at all when I fed her before. She'll need a few sessions to adjust to it. Just make sure the milk gets in and she swallows it.”

For a kitten that was just screaming to the world how hungry she was, she sure was stubborn about letting Keith actually feed her. It takes a few more tries before he gets the tip of the nipple back in her mouth (making a mess out of her face in the process), but once it's finally in--

She closes her toothless mouth over it, and a moment later they start to hear frantic wet suckling noises.

Lance blinks. “Woah. She latched.”

The two of them watch in awe as the kitten chugs down her meal, paws kneading in the air and ears wiggling adorably with every suckle. Keith can feel her throat swallowing rapidly against his finger as he holds her head in place. Keith tears his eyes away to glimpse at Lance, whose attention is focused solely on the kitten, eyes wide with wonder. He's probably done this so many times already with many cats, Keith thinks, and yet he can still look at this kitten like it's the first time all over again.

Eventually Lance catches Keith staring, and grins at him. Keith smiles back, and averts his eyes, drawn back to the kitten in his lap.

The kitten soon starts slowing down, and when she's full she lets go of the nipple. She drank almost all of what they prepared for her, her belly round and full again. “Now what?” Keith asks, placing the bottle on the coffee table.

“Now we clean her face and then burp her,” Lance answers, giving Keith a quick demonstration before handing her over. Keith probably pats her back way too softly to be considered proper burping, but he really can't be expected to be tough with her, alright? She's like the most frail creature he's ever encountered. He could accidentally crush her in his hands. Why is he holding her again?

“Now,” Lance says, oblivious to Keith’s inner turmoil, “we help her potty.”

He takes over for this task, letting Keith observe as he pulls out a paper towel and takes the kitten. Holding her up, he shows Keith how to wipe her bum, laughing a little when she squeals indignantly.

“It's super important to do this part after every feeding,” Lance explains. “We have to help them potty, because at this age kittens can't do it by themselves.”

Record screech.

Keith slowly looks Lance in the eye. “What.”

“They can't, yanno, go pee and poo by themselves. Mama cat has to help them.”

“Are you. Are you serious.”

“... Yes?”

Give him a minute, Keith needs to process this. “That… that's so pathetic it's adorable?”

Lance snorts suddenly, bouncing the kitten a little. “Yeah, it kinda is, huh?”

“Like I already know lots of baby animals needed help being fed but kittens can't even poop by themselves?!”

“I know!”

“Even human babies can poop by themselves!”

“I _know_!”

It must be much later in the night than Keith thought, because he can't help but start cracking up. And he laughs and laughs, and he thinks he hears Lance start laughing too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Look at these babies hissing.](https://youtu.be/z90Jm62mXQQ) They're so fierce.


	24. Chapter 24

They clean up, both the kitten and their working area, wiping everything down and washing their hands. They check the kitten’s weight (she had gained a couple of grams, which Lance said was very good), and settle her back down in the box, tucking her in for a few more hours of napping before they wake her up and do the routine all over again.

When she's curled up and snoozing away, Lance and Keith fall to the couch, sitting next to one another as they watch her.

That exact moment is when Keith finally feels the exhaustion that's been creeping up on him. The excitement, adrenaline, panic, and desperation can only carry him so far. Now that things have settled to a calm for the next couple of hours, it's like Keith’s shoulders are finally feeling a weight that's been hanging on a precipice. His eyelids drift down, heavy. The TV continues running in the background, coaxing white noise in his head. The kitten looks so cozy and snuggled, he’s a little jealous.

Keith had offered to take over the next feeding by himself. He has to be awake for it. He has to be awake in case something goes wrong. He has to be awake so he doesn't keep Lance hanging by himself. He has to be awake…

 

He nods off.

Literally, his head nods off to the side, and he's lucid just long enough to know he's landed on something firm and warm sitting next to him before he's out light a light.

*

The smell of bacon wakes him up.

Eyebrows pursed together, Keith mumbles incoherently as he rouses, rubbing sleep out of the corner of his eye. The first thing he notices is that he's not in his bed. Why is he on the couch? And why does the house smell like bacon?

Squinting through the sunlight beaming down from the windows, Keith sits up and glances over the back of the couch to the kitchen area. There's someone at the stove. That is clearly a problem, because Keith lives alone.

“Th’ hell’re you doin’ in my house,” he grumbles threateningly.

The stranger turns around at his voice, and reveals himself as Lance, looking very confused. “What do you mean what am I - oh.” He cuts himself off with a snort, covering his mouth. “Oh my god, dude. That _bedhead_.”

Keith stares at him, disoriented.

Oh, yeah, that's right. Lance came over after he found…

Clarity soon returns to his eyes, and he lowers his hackles and runs a quick hand through his unruly hair, embarrassed.

“Wow,” Lance laughs, shaking his head, “you and the little ginger snap have a lot in common. You’re both grumpy when you wake up and think you're all tough and intimidating, when really you just end up looking kind of cute.”

“What?”

“What?”

A spitting noise interrupts them. Keith glances over to the box to find the kitten has woken up, roused also by the strange smell, and immediately started her infant attempts at hissing. And - yeah, okay, maybe Lance had a point just now. Though there's actually even more Keith has in common with the kitten than Lance realizes.

… Wait, did Lance just call Keith cute?

Keith looks back to the kitchen, but Lance has already turned back around to the stove.

*

A few minutes later Lance plops himself next to Keith, two plates of breakfast in his hands. He offers one to Keith, who takes it with a quiet “thanks” and starts to nibble on a piece of bacon.

“You fell asleep on my shoulder last night,” Lance says cheerfully, nudging Keith’s side with his elbow.

Keith turns red.

“You were pretty dead to the world, so I took care of all the little ginger snap’s feeding times last night and this morning. Fed her about half an hour ago.”

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles. “I'll do all of today's.”

Lance laughs. “It's fine, don't worry about it! I'm here to help all you need, y’know.”

“… Thanks,” Keith says, smiling a little. Taking a piece of toast from his plate, he bites into it - and abruptly freezes in place. Glancing to the side, he notes that Lance’s toast sports the same fatal flaw.

It takes a moment for Lance to feel Keith’s incredulous stare on him. “Something wrong?”

“Jam,” is all Keith says as he shoots up and heads for the pantry. He cannot, in good conscience, go without Lacoste Farm’s strawberry jam if he is to have toast with his breakfast. To do so is sacrilege in this house. “You want any?”

“Eh,” Lance waves a hand, “no thanks.”

“Seriously?” Keith grabs the jar and returns by Lance's side, popping open the lid and stabbing a knife inside. “You did this whole plot just to get me addicted to this stuff, and now you won't even have any yourself?”

Lance starts laughing. “I mean, I grow up surrounded by strawberries twenty-four seven! I get a little tired of the taste sometimes! Can you blame me?”

Yes Keith can, because being surrounded by the strawberry fields of Lacoste Farm sounds like nothing less than nirvana and he salivates just thinking about it.

But eh, whatever. More for him.


	25. Chapter 25

“Hey Keith,” Lance says, “you got any games here we could play?”

It takes Keith a moment to register Lance’s question. He's been sitting in front of the box for the better part of an hour after their most recent feeding, just watching. “What? Oh, no, not really. Sorry.”

“Not even video games?”

“Nothing with co-op, no.” He nods to the TV and console, both several years old and spoils of a secondhand store. “You can pick something and play yourself, if you want.”

“But I wanna play with youuuu!”

Keith is quiet.

“What about outside? Are there any hiking trails around here?”

“There's one to the south nearby.” But Keith doesn't make a move to get up, staring solidly at the box.

Lance stands there awkwardly. “You wanna come with?”

“Can't. Gotta watch.”

“Keeeeeith,” Lance groans, draping himself across the back of the couch. “Buddy, you can't spend every waking hour watching the kitten. Literally ninety percent of her life right now is sleeping. There's nothing wrong with taking a break and doing something else until her next feeding.”

Keith frowns, a little pout of his lips. “I can't just… I can't just leave her here. What if something happens?”

“What on earth could happen?”

“What if she gets too cold?”

“We just reheated the heating pad, it’ll be good to go for the next several hours.”

Okay… “What if she gets too hot?”

“There's enough room for her to crawl away from it if she wants to cool off.”

“What if she rolls over on her back and can't get back up?”

Lance stares at him.

“She hates that!”

“Keith…”

The kitten squirms a bit in her sleep, toes stretching out and opening her tiny mouth wide in a yawn. Her cuteness distracts the both of them for a moment, with her small twitching nose and itty-bitty toe beans. She even already has claws at her age, though Keith doubts she's able to do much damage with them yet.

And Keith knows Lance is right - that she won't be doing much more than sleeping and she'll probably be fine anyways. Lance has more experience with this than Keith does. But it's hard to relax. To just pull away and not think about it for a little bit.

“Why don't we just sit outside and chill for a while?” Lance starts again. “I love the view from your place here. It's like a painting.”

Keith’s eyes soften as he watches the kitten. The view was definitely one of the major defining factors in his decision to move here. He could see all the mountains surrounding him for miles. He wouldn't mind returning to that view. But…

“We can open one of the windows, too, in case the little one wakes up. We could probably hear her even if we didn't open one up,” Lance jokes, laughing.

It’s like he read Keith’s mind. Slowly, Keith starts warming up to the idea.

But he still doesn't answer immediately.

“C’mon, Keith. Let’s go hang out with the cats for a little bit.”

Sighing, Keith frowns. “The cats only show up in the evening for dinner. I never see them around before then.”

“Maybe that's true for the others, but Antoinette and Nicki Meownaj followed me up here yesterday. They're out there right now.”

Keith stands up and heads for the door.

*

As soon as Keith sits down in his chair, Lance appears and plops Antoinette down in his lap. He rearranges her to cradle her the way she likes, big fluffy tail swaying in contentment as she peers up at him with her odd-colored eyes.

Lance takes Nicki Meownaj and settles next to Keith - though when Nicki Meownaj starts wriggling impatiently, Lance scoots a little closer to Keith so the two bonded favorites can be comfortable.

Keith studies Antoinette as she appears to study him in turn. Her face is a little more angular than the others he's seen, with a pink nose and a thick coat of luxuriously soft white fur that’s brushed gently in the wind. Her paws curl inward with her position, and even they have longer fur than the others, with tufts of white peeking between each of her toes. Fascinated, Keith touches one of them. Unlike Sigur, she’s not very tolerable of that, and silently curls her paw further away from him. She looks every bit as royal as her namesake.

With Nicki Meownaj, though… he's not sure. He decides to ask. “What made you name her Nicki Meownaj?” Keith asks, glancing over to see Lance blowing a raspberry into the tortie’s tummy.

“Because,” Lance says, lifting her up so their faces are side by side, “look at that eyeliner.”

Keith doesn't understand until he notices the black lining of her eyes, giving the illusion of wearing cat-eye makeup.

“Ah.”

“On point, huh?”

*

It doesn't take too many minutes of snuggling with Antoinette and breathing in the fresh mountain air for Keith to admit to himself that Lance was probably right to convince him to come out here. His shoulders relax, and he closes his eyes - though his ears remain on high alert in case the kitten wakes up and starts mewing. Still, it's… nice.

Of course, that's when Antoinette decides to start writhing away from his hold. Keith’s heart sinks a little, but he lets her go to do as she wishes. Instead of hopping off his lap, however, Antoinette rights herself up to turn around and face Keith, her eyes blinking slowly as she starts to purr. It's a much deeper rumble than Pickles’ purr; he swears it resonates all the way into his chest.

Smiling, he strokes her head, down to her back. She leans into his hand, and licks it with her rough tongue when he starts a new stroke. She leans on one paw, then the other, and slowly begins to knead on Keith.

“Aww,” Lance coos. “See? Even Antoinette could tell how stressed you were.”

Keith continues petting her. “Pickles did something like this too, once. Back when I was waiting for Tom to get fixed.”

He'd been wondering if Tom would no longer want to stick around, and just like that, Pickles had jumped into his lap for the very first time and comforted him with her attentions.

“Cats are sensitive to emotions like that,” Lance says. “They can just tell. Did you know a cat's purr is like, legit healthy? They help with healing, or something. It's like a super power.”

A super power, huh?

Sounds a little far-fetched, but Keith does feel a lot better than he did earlier. Well rested and refreshed. He's filled with a lot more energy and focus for the kitten’s next feeding, handling and holding her through the routine all on his own while Lance watches over with something like pride in his eyes. 


	26. Chapter 26

“You've gotten a lot better at this.”

Keith smiles to himself at the praise, holding the kitten in his lap as she gulps down her third afternoon meal. She suckles like she's starving, and when she's done she unlatches and gets some formula on her face. Carefully, Keith wipes her clean, then proceeds to gently burp her and help her potty. He has gotten used to the routine, and if Lance approves, that's all he could really ask for. Lance always seems to know what he's doing.

After the feedings all done, instead of placing her back in the box, Keith continues to hold her for a while. He strokes a hand softly down her back, letting her acclimate to his warmth and scent. They started doing that yesterday - taking a minute or two of cuddle time so she could get used to their presence. It's worked to help her adjust, and she no longer wakes up hissing at their strange smells.

It's Sunday, now. It's gone much the same as Saturday did, and Keith gave Lance the couch to sleep in, rotating back and forth for feedings throughout the night. It's definitely the longest amount of time Keith has ever spent with Lance, and while he feels a bit overwhelmed at times, it's nothing a quick step outside alone with Antoinette and Nicki Meownaj can't fix.

They settled on the kitten as being three days old when Keith found her, so now she would be five days old. Lance had told Keith that she might be opening her eyes within the next few days, and Keith studies her face closely at every feeding, squinting for any hint of a tiny set of eyes.

“Yeah?” Keith says, glancing up to the back of Lance as he sits on the edge of Keith’s coffee table, playing one his games on the console. He mashes buttons rapidly, but pauses every once in awhile to check up on Keith’s progress.

“Yeah.”

With the couch completely free, Keith takes the opportunity to sprawl out and lay down, pillowing his head with one arm as he places the kitten on his chest. She's still so small, her entire body is lightly jostled every time Keith’s heart beats. But she seems to like that, crawling up to the left side of his chest and staying put. He strokes down her back. “Well, I do have a great teacher.”

Lance suddenly sputters, nearly dropping his controller and coming close to dying in the game. When he recovers, the back of his ears are red. “I - I mean, yeah! Of course! The best around, that's me!”

Keith just stares at the back of his head incredulously, before shrugging and returning his focus to petting the kitten.

*

Said kitten ends up falling fast asleep on his chest, and Keith doesn't have the heart to wake her up by putting her back in the box. So he lets her stay, watching the way her small curled up body rises up and down with his breathing.

He almost falls asleep himself, but then senses Lance plopping himself down on the armrest by his head. Keith doesn't notice when he stopped playing the game, but the TV’s already off.

“So,” Lance starts off slowly. “I probably should have asked way before now, but… what exactly is the plan, after this?”

Keith looks up at Lance from his position, confusion lined in his expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have work in the morning, don't you?”

… Oh.

The thought sinks in as Keith glances back down to the kitten, napping away peacefully. He definitely can’t take her to work. He wouldn’t be able to attend to her needs thoroughly.

“… I can call in sick?”

“It’ll be several weeks before she can be weaned. Even longer for her to be old enough to be on her own.”

Is that how long they have with her? Just until she’s old enough?

Something about that thought doesn’t sit right with Keith. Nonetheless, Lance has a point. Keith can’t afford to take off that many days.

This probably isn’t a conversation to be having sprawled out across the couch. Exhaling through his nose, Keith reluctantly pulls himself up into a sitting position, making room for Lance to slide in on the cushion next to him. The movement wakens the little ginger snap, though all she offers is a weak sleepy protest as he cups his hands around her, and soon she’s right back in dreamland.

Keith just stares at her, not sure what to say. He doesn’t have any ideas.

Lance probably senses that. He scoots in closer and reaches out to pet the kitten thoughtfully. “I asked because,” he murmurs, “I could bring her back with me to my place. My older sister does this sort of thing sometimes and just got through fostering a litter. I could ask her to foster this little one.”

Sounds perfectly reasonable. The kitten will be well taken care of and Keith won’t have to sacrifice any work days.

… So why does he still not like it?

“What’ll happen after that?” he murmurs.

“Hmm.” Lance withdraws his hand and leans back. “I guess then either we’ll socialize her into the colony or bring her to the shelter.”

Keith doesn’t like that.

He doesn’t like that at all.

And as the kitten squirms in his arms, he finally starts to realize why.

None of those options are giving him the chance of ever seeing her again.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asks.

Keith never thought he was a very expressive person before now, so how does Lance always seem to know when something’s up? He frowns, subconsciously curling himself around the kitten as if he can protect her from the world. This cruel world filled with cruel people who run over mothers with cars and drive away without a second thought.

“How will I know she’s okay?” Keith asks quietly. “How will I know if she makes it fine out there?”

Lance watches him for several moments in silent contemplation, propping a hand beneath his chin as he studies Keith.

“Well… there is an option for that,” he says. “You could always adopt her.”

And just like that, everything clicks.

Adopt her. That’s really what he wants, isn’t it? He wants to give her the guarantee that she’s safe, that she’s well-fed, that he won’t shuck off responsibility to someone else and forget about her. He wants to give her that word that taunted him all his life.

It’s a lot to take in at once. Just a few months ago he was so adamantly against taking in a cat; he couldn’t afford it. But he’s since gotten a raise and has been saving, so… it wouldn’t be impossible anymore.

Yeah.

Yeah, he can do this.

When he looks down at the kitten, it’s with a new light in his eyes. The stress leaves his muscles. Everything just makes _sense_. How else could this have possibly ended? He’s spent the whole weekend feeding her from his hand, around the clock, helping her stay clean and warm because she was too helpless to go on by herself. It was probably a foregone conclusion the moment he went back and found her on the road: he loves this little ginger snap. He loves her so much already it’s startling. He loves her, and he doesn’t have to let her go.

“Yeah,” Keith says finally, after a long moment of silence. He stares at the kitten fondly, then turns to Lance with a warm smile. “Yeah, I want to adopt her.”

Lance grins back. “I had a feeling you did.” He gives Keith a firm pat on the shoulder. “Just had to get you to admit it.”

Keith laughs breathlessly, jostling the kitten a little bit. Ah, man. Now there’s _definitely_ no way he can put her back in the box. 


	27. Chapter 27

So that’s one problem solved. But just because Keith now knows for sure he wants to adopt the kitten doesn’t mean they have everything squared away; he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do about work in the morning.

“Oh, letting my sister foster her is still an option,” Lance says when Keith brings it up. “She lives in her own house on our farm property, with her husband and daughter. She’ll keep her well cared for until she’s old enough to stay at home while you’re away. Or…”

“Or?”

Lance looks a little sheepish as he continues, “I could foster her while you’re at work and then bring her back to you when you’re home?” He scratches the back of his neck, and smiles. “I get the feeling you’d still want to be able to see her as much as you can instead of leaving her with someone else for a few months.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Yeah. That. I like that option,” Keith says.

So, they’re going to have shifts. While Keith’s at work during the day, Lance will have the kitten at his place. When Keith returns home, Lance will bring up the kitten and let Keith take care of her throughout the night. Then Lance will come back in the morning to pick her up and repeat the cycle. Once they settle on this plan, they exchange cell phone numbers, and Lance leaves most of the supplies with Keith.

Before Lance is out the door, he turns around to Keith and grins. “By the way,” he says, “what are you going to name her?”

Keith blinks approximately twelve times in the span of four seconds. He casts a glance over his shoulder to the box, then back at Lance. Confusion lines his furrowed brow. “Her… name is ginger snap?”

The two boys stare at each other for several seconds, before Lance finally breaks and wheezes out a laugh.

So yeah, apparently it was just meant as a placeholder nickname, but Keith kinda likes it, okay? She’s ginger colored. She snaps when woken up. Ginger snaps are cookies. It’s funny.

Yeah. He’s keeping it.

“Ginger,” he coos to her later that night, petting her as she feeds from the bottle. “Hey, Ginger…”

*

Lance returns in the morning, almost right as Keith’s dressed and ready to walk out the door. Lance carries a small cozy bag to hold Ginger in, lined with soft blankets to keep warm better than a cardboard box. Probably more supplies borrowed from his sister.

“Ginger snaaaap,” Lance whines when he sees her again. Having just been fed for the morning, she’s sleepy and chubby, putting up very little protest when he cradles her to his chest. “I missed you so much, baby!”

Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s only been a number of hours.”

“And they were all kittenless hours! Keep rolling your eyes, you’ll know my suffering soon enough.”

*

And… yeah. Keith definitely eats his words not too long after giving Ginger away and going to work. After spending the entire weekend without a proper sleep cycle because he’s spending every waking moment taking care of her, to suddenly go back to everyday life like nothing changed throws him off a bit. Every other hour, he feels like he needs to be mixing up formula and soothing a fussy kitten.

At least it’s still easy to merge himself into his work. Cars on lifts, tires, and the smell of grease and oil surrounds him, reminding him why he’s here. He couldn’t bring Ginger to an auto mechanic, no matter how much he may grow to miss her presence in the span of a few hours. But he can’t skip out on work to stay at home with her, either. He needs to earn his wages so he can support the both of them - especially once she grows up more. She’ll need food, her own bowls, a litter box, litter to put in it, her own toys, her own cat trees, getting fixed, yearly shots…

Ah, man, now Keith’s _really_ grateful for that raise.

He’s always been grateful for the shop, in general. It’s one of the few running in the valley, and the only one that always plays the single rock radio station within a hundred mile radius. It’s currently playing AC/DC’s Hells Bells and Keith unconsciously bobs his head along lightly as he goes through the motions of replacing a tire.

_Ding!_

That sound _again_. Keith frowns deeply, annoyed. Something has been chiming incessantly throughout the entire day, and he has yet to figure out what it is or where it’s coming from. Every time he finds a moment of peace, it happens again, taking him out of his reverie.

_Ding!_

Keith’s frown morphs into a scowl.

_Ding!_

“Oh my god,” he whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fight with a girlfriend?” asks one of Keith’s coworkers, poking his head up from the other side of the car.

Keith’s annoyance immediately fades into perplexity. “Uh. What?”

His coworker shrugs. “I dunno, every time you get a text you start glaring at everything and never reply.”

Every time he gets a what now?

“I’m not getting any—” Keith pats at his back pocket and withdraws his cell phone, lighting it up. “… Oh.”

His screen is flooded with texts, all from Lance.

“Oh my god.”

Face flushing as his coworker chortles, Keith starts skimming over the plethora of messages. Did something happen to Ginger? Was that why Lance had been texting him almost constantly that day? Crap. Something totally happened. Something happened and Keith ignored all his messages.

  
[ Lance ]  
ok so now that i finally have your number i’m going to immediately abuse this power

  
“What.”

  
[ Lance ]  
(attached picture of Ginger curled up and sleeping in the carrier bag, surrounded by a fluffy red blanket)  
so cozy!!

[ Lance ]   
(attached picture of Ginger bottle feeding, taken at an angle hovering above her)  
om nom nom

[ Lance ]  
(attached picture of Ginger in Lance’s hand, still small enough to fit in the size of his palm)

[ Lance ]  
she pooped SO MUCH just now what a good girl

  
The rest of the messages are similar, most pictures and a stray comment every once in awhile. Keith’s brief panic melts off his shoulders, and he idly leans against the side of the car as he continues scrolling through his texts, a small smile tickling his lips.

Lance probably knew how much he’d miss her…

  
[ Lance ]  
OMFG I FOUND MY DPNS!!

  
Keith lifts an eyebrow, but he doesn’t stay confused for long. The next message after is a picture of Ginger, curled up next to a set of double pointed needles. They already have a few rows of red yarn casted on.

  
[ Lance ]  
IM KNITTING HER A HAT!!!

  
Keith’s full on grinning now, biting at the bottom of his lip. The rest are some more pictures and he quickly catches up. Even though they’re a lot of the same things over and over like Ginger napping or feeding, each one makes Keith’s heart feel lighter.

As soon as he finishes reading the last text, another one comes through with a chime. It’s a picture of Ginger from the front, eyes sealed shut and pink nose adorable. A tiny red beret sits perched over one of her folded ears.

  
[ Lance ]  
I MADE HER A HAT :D

 

He makes it really hard for Keith to go back to work after that. 


	28. Chapter 28

Ginger is officially one week old.

She still hasn’t opened her eyes, but she’s grown nearly twice her original size and is much more active. Instead of falling asleep almost immediately after every feeding, she’ll spend several minutes blindly exploring her surroundings, rolling and flopping around on her blanket. Keith can tell she wants to walk, but she just isn’t old enough yet.

Lance keeps Keith updated during the day, almost by the hour as he makes her more tiny articles of clothing. He crochets her a red scarf to go with her beret and sends Keith a picture of her wearing both.

[ Lance ]  
Dapper Snap

[ Keith ]  
She’s going to grow too big to wear those in like a week?

[ Lance ]  
shut up and look at the cute

  
Keith’s cell phone has never seen so much activity in all the years he’s had it. He’s finally started poking around on it to figure out how to use the camera. There isn’t much for him to take pictures of during his shifts with Ginger, since he hasn’t undertaken the role of personal tailor, but he likes to go outside whenever the kitten’s asleep to snap pictures of the other cats. Tom, sprawled out on the cat tree. Pickles, in his lap. Sigur, staring at him curiously with piercing green eyes. Keith saves them all to their own separate files on his phone.

He sends some of them to Lance, who in turn will send pictures of Antoinette and Nicki Meownaj just before he leaves to pick up Ginger in the morning. Sometimes he’ll also send pictures of cats Keith’s never seen before, with their names and a brief description.

  
[ Lance ]  
this is porkchop he hates people but we love him

[ Lance ]  
sunshine. f. 2y/o. likes long walks on the beach, grooming her butt, and raw vole

[ Lance ]  
this big guy is bartholomeow we think he’s part maine coon

  
Keith saves those to his phone too. But Ginger has the largest file of them all. Ginger feeding, Ginger with her face covered in kitten formula, Ginger sleeping in a little ball, Ginger modeling more of Lance’s homemade clothes.

A selfie of Lance holding Ginger close to his face, eyes bright and lips gently touching her fluffy head.

Keith’s cheeks feel a little warm as he saves that one.

*

In the daytime, Keith usually saves his perusal of text messages for his lunch hour. He’ll hear it ping throughout the morning and smile to himself, but resists temptation to take a peek at risk of getting distracted from his work.

Settling down at the cheap fold out table in the break room, Keith chews idly at his sandwich as he withdraws his phone. Lance sent some pictures of the Lacoste Farm cats first, Sunshine looking up at him with gentle golden eyes and Porkchop with his hackles raised from a distance. Save to folder, save to folder, save to folder. Then he gets to the Ginger pictures.

He’s finishing off his lunch and the backlog of pics when a new one chimes in, displaying across the screen.

Keith drops his phone on the table.

He can’t believe his eyes.

It’s another one of Ginger, adorable and sweet as always, but this time she’s posed in the lap of a stuffed gray hippopotamus plush toy. And not just any stuffed gray hippopotamus plush toy—

Keith doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he already has the phone held to his ear, the dial tone ringing only once before Lance picks up.

“Hello? Keith?”

“HOW DID YOU FIND POTATO,” says Keith.

Silence.

“Ow,” says Lance. “Um. What?”

Keith stills, his actions slowly catching up to him. “I—uh.”

It dimly occurs to him that this isn’t actually the first time he called Lance on impulse. There must be something wrong with him.

Mentally shrinking into himself, Keith stumbles out a few more “uh—st—I’m—” before finally settling on a “never mind sorry” and ending the call, all but tossing the phone away in embarrassment.

_Ding!_

Damn it.

Hesitantly, Keith reaches out and picks up the phone.

  
[ Lance ]  
ok i’m very confused on what just happened

[ Keith ]  
Sorry.

[ Lance ]  
are you okay?

[ Keith ]  
Yeah.

[ Lance ]  
you shouted something about a potato??

  
Keith groans, hitting his forehead against the table. He was hoping Lance would forget about that.

  
[ Keith ]  
When I was little I had a stuffed hippo that looks like yours. Like… exactly like yours.

[ Lance ]  
…  
potato?

[ Keith ]  
I couldn’t say the word hippopotamus okay I’d say something like “hip-potato” I was like four okay

[ Lance ]  
omg  
that’s adorable omg

  
What Keith keeps to himself is the part where Potato was given to him by his first foster guardians, and it became his source of comfort. Everywhere Keith went, he brought Potato with him, struggling to keep his arms wrapped around the plush’s torso. But then circumstances led him to another foster family, and he lost Potato in the move. Keith was heartbroken. It was hard for him to really form attachments after that.

Looking back at the picture now, it’s obvious the stuffed plush isn’t his Potato. It looks well taken care of, not dirtied and torn like his. This one has both its black beady eyes; Potato was missing one by the time he lost it.

But still, the picture tears out a sudden wave of bittersweet nostalgia every time Keith glances at it, it almost hurts. He hasn’t thought of that stuffed animal in years. After losing Potato, whenever another family gave him a toy, he played with it with the expectation that it wouldn’t last. Both the toy, and the family.

Keith wonders when he had gotten to the point where it’s so easy for him to grow attached to cats.

Then he quickly saves the picture before clocking back into work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally implementing the camera feature of Neko Atsume. See, my summary is still relevant! It only took 28 chapters!


	29. Chapter 29

Keith is tired.

Working at his job all day only to come home to a kitten who needs to be fed around the clock will do that. Keith hasn’t had a full night of uninterrupted sleep since he first found Ginger almost a week ago, now. At Thursday, it’s starting to take its toll on him. He almost nodded off twice in the last hour, and when he drove back home he had to keep shaking his head to stay awake.

It’s easier after Lance stops by and Keith has Ginger back in his care. Her folded ears and tiny innocent face serve the best reminder for why he’s working so hard, why he’s missing out on so much sleep. She goes through her feeding routine without a fuss, and as soon as she’s tucked in, Keith fixes a bowl of food for the outside cats.

When he steps outside, Pickles, Tom, and Sigur are all there waiting for him, but there’s a newcomer as well.

“Mreoooow.”

The largest, fattest cat Keith has ever seen. It sits right at the doorstep while the others hang back a few feet away. Keith doesn’t think much of it as he goes ahead and places the bowl in its regular spot, letting the heavy short haired white cat have first dibs. Its tummy sways a little as it trots over, and begins to dig in without a care.

Worn out, Keith flops back into his chair as he watches the new cat. It’s been awhile since he’s met a new one, but right now he just can’t muster the energy for his usual excitement. He simply observes quietly. The cat has a notch in its ear, so it must be a part of the neighborhood colony. That’s all Keith can conclude so far.

The cat eats and eats and eats. Tom, Pickles, and Sigur all hang back several feet away. Keith starts to frown when he realizes the cat has already gobbled up half the entire bowl for itself. Is it keeping the rest of the cats away?

“Hey,” Keith grouses from his seat. “You’ve had enough. Leave some for the rest.”

The cat, of course, ignores him. It buries its face into the kibble and munches loudly.

“Hey,” Keith says, a little louder. “I said leave it.”

The cat shows no sign of stopping. If it keeps going…

Annoyed, Keith stands up and stalks over. Crossing his arms, he stares down at the cat. Usually his mere presence would scare off an unfamiliar cat — it took weeks before he could get anywhere near Pickles — but this one hasn’t a care in the world. Keith nudges at its side with his foot. No budge. He looks helplessly at the other cats, all watching the scene with mild interest.

He nudges again with his foot, but the cat hardly moves. Gives another push, harder. The cat doesn’t even deign him with a meow. It’s almost finished with the entire bowl of food, meant for three cats. Exasperated, Keith throws his hands in the air. “What’s with you?! You had plenty! It’s not a bottomless buffet! You — rrgh!”

Keith spins on his foot, speeding back to his chair and swiping his cell phone from the arm rest. Raising it, he snaps a picture of the fat white cat as it finally finishes the rest of the kibble and flops onto its side, paws curled and eyes closed in content. He sends it to Lance.

  
[ Keith ]  
Who is this.

[ Lance ]  
OMG PUTTS!!!

[ Keith ]  
Thanks, I hate him.

[ Lance ]  
WHAT?!?!  
EXPLAIN

[ Keith ]  
He ate the whole bowl of food I left for the others. All of it.  
He didn’t even give them a chance to have any. Just took it all for himself. So I don’t like him.

[ Lance ]  
ok  
keith  
i’m gonna need you to calm down

  
“I AM PERFECTLY CALM,” Keith says out loud, offended.

  
[ Keith ]  
I am perfectly calm.

[ Lance ]  
ok so let me explain you a thing about putts the cat  
he’s old. like, super old, for an outside cat  
and i’m pretty sure all the other cats recognize that  
i’ve seen this before where they all let him have first dibs  
cats can be territorial about their food, did any of the others try fighting him over it?

[ Keith ]  
… No.

[ Lance ]  
see?? they respect their elders  
putts exudes wisdom and a demand for reverence

  
Keith looks away from his phone to stare at Putts. The cat rolls over onto his back, all four limbs sprawled akimbo from his large Bode body.

  
[ Keith ]  
I’m not seeing it.

[ Lance ]  
maybe you don’t but the cats do

  
Keith sighs.

  
[ Keith ]  
Guess I should try feeding them again.

[ Lance ]  
hey for what it’s worth putts tends to only eat one bowl before going off on his way and disappearing, so you don’t have to worry about him eating any more ok?

[ Keith ]  
Ok. Thanks.

  
Just as Lance said, Putts makes no moves when Keith refills the bowl and set it out closer to the other cats. All three finally dig in, munching and lips smacking. Keith glances back to Putts, who appears to have fallen asleep.

Sleep. Sounds nice.

Groaning, Keith returns to his chair and leans back his head. His eyes are heavy, and he lets them fall shut. A few minutes later a weight of warmth hops onto his lap with a “mrrp” and Keith smiles to himself as Pickles makes herself comfortable.

He has about one hour before he needs to feed Ginger, so he spends it outside, idly petting any cat that brushes along within his reach.

  
*

  
Keith is woken by the sound of a crying kitten.

Jerking awake suddenly, he checks the time on his phone, his heart sinking in his chest.

Ginger was supposed to be fed forty-five minutes ago.

Panicked, Keith scrambles out of his chair, throwing a hasty apology to Pickles as she’s forced out of her spot and hops to the ground. He dashes inside and screeches to a halt in front of the box, peeking in. Ginger is flopped on her back, squeaking loudly. Keith gently nudges her back upright. Then he gets to work.

Ginger continues crying loudly throughout her meal preparation, to which Keith dutifully apologizes after each complaint. He’s so frazzled, he almost forgets to wash his hands. To make matters worse, he used up the last of the pre-made formula in the last feeding, so he has to spend more time preparing a new batch.

“Sorry!” he says as he frantically mixes the powder in the bottle. The coffee maker is still in the process of heating up water. Ginger voices her displeasure. “Sorry!” he says again. “Sorry, sorry, sorrysorrysorrysorry—,”

It feels like hours have passed by the time he finally has Ginger in his lap, guzzling down her dinner. The guilt washes over Keith like a storm wave. Sure, Ginger probably would have acted the exact same way even if he fed her right on time, but. Still.

“Sorry,” he murmurs one last time, stroking a hand down her back. Ginger only continues her loud suckling, ears wiggling and eyes squinting up at him.

Wait.

Her eyes.

Keith suddenly sits up straight, breath catching in his throat.

Her _eyes_.

They’re not all the way open, not yet, but — but they’re there, just barely, peeking out up at him through little slits. One a little more open than the other, both the dark blue color all kittens are born with.

It might be because of the sleep deprivation, or it might be just because of how Keith loves this kitten so damn much, but he feels his throat tightening around a lump. His hands shake a little as Ginger finally finishes her meal, soft white milk dribbling down her chin. Scooping her up, he holds her to eye level, watching her blink sleepily at him for the first time.

“Hi,” he whispers. “I’m Keith.”


	30. Chapter 30

Friday.

It’s now been one week since that fateful night.

With her eyes now open, Ginger has become even cuter, if such a thing were possible. Lance nearly squealed when he saw her that morning, and all throughout the day Keith has been bombarded with more Ginger Pics: Peepers edition. At her current stage her vision registers little more than blurry general shapes, and will need more time to develop and sharpen — but still, she _can_ see. Her little head turns this way and that, taking in her surroundings and discovering the new sense. She wants to explore more than ever, but her body still needs to grow a little more before she’s ready to walk properly.

Keith can hardly believe it’s only been one week since he found her. She was so much more tiny back then, eyes shut and umbilical cord still attached to her tummy. It’s kind of amazing, how one creature can change so much in such a small amount of time.

She still hates being rolled over onto her back, though.

Keith meticulously saves every photo and video Lance sends him at work, each one leaving him looking forward to coming home more than ever. He has the whole weekend to spend with her, once he clocks out.

The reminder helps keep him awake on the way home. He’d nodded off once or twice at work, but managed to keep it together long enough. Now, as he pulls in the dirt patch of a driveway, he feels himself wide awake and eager for the coming days.

Putts is there. Keith’s good mood sours a little bit as he gives the large cat a full serving, waiting for him to finish before refilling the bowl for his favorites.

*

Lance hardly has the opportunity to knock more than once before Keith answers the door, already waiting. Keith immediately glances to the insulated carrier at Lance’s side. It’s quiet; the kitten must be asleep. His lips pull into a smile as he steps forward.

Lance steps back.

“Woah,” he says. “Keith. Are you okay?”

Keith looks back to Lance and blinks slowly. “What.”

“You look, uh…” he drifts off.

Keith stares at him.

“… really tired,” he finishes.

Keith scoffs. “Great observation. I _am_ tired.” Stepping forward again, he reaches for the carrier. “Ginger…”

Again, Lance steps back. “Actually, Keith, I think maybe you should take a break from kitten duty tonight.”

Keith’s fingers twitch. “Excuse me?”

“Actually I think you should take the whole weekend off,” Lance says quickly. “I dunno if you’ve looked in a mirror lately but you look like a wreck. And I think it’s because you’ve been going through the week without more than two hours of sleep at a time which leads to sleep deprivation.” He pauses. “Which is kind of my fault because I didn’t think about the consequences of work and cat duty back-to-back all by yourself, so I’m really sorry about that.”

“Give me the cat, Lance.”

“Inability to pay attention,” says Lance. “Just one of the many signs of sleep deprivation.”

And okay, Keith does not have the time or patience for Lance’s joking around today. “I said give me the damn cat, Lance!” he snaps.

“Irritability. Another serious sign of sleep deprivation.”

Ridiculous. Keith is always irritated.

“Lance—,” This time when Keith attempts to get in Lance’s space, Lance pushes back, placing a hand on Keith’s chest. “Lance, I’m serious!”

“And I’m being serious, too!” Lance raises his voice. “I’m not just playing around to get on your nerves. I can’t trust you to take care of Ginger when you’re like this!”

That is what finally makes Keith stop. Eyes widening, the memory of the night before snaps back in a flash. Of falling asleep, unable to hear the kitten’s cries of hunger until nearly forty-five minutes past meal time. He wants to believe it was just one slip-up, that everything turned out alright in the end, but…

Lance is right.

He’s no good like this.

Frustrated, exhausted, and resigned, Keith eventually takes a step back. “Okay,” he says quietly. ”I… okay.”

Lance, at least, looks sympathetic. “It’s just for the weekend,” he says, “and after you get some sleep, we can figure out a new schedule that isn’t so hard on you.”

Keith can only nod, eyes downcast.

A whole weekend without Ginger. After having his life practically revolve around her. What is he even going to do? He’s not going to be sleeping two days straight.

Guess he could hang out with the other cats, but they only really showed up at dinner time.

Keith frowns to himself. What did he do on the weekends before Ginger? What was he even doing on them before the other cats came into his life? Before Lance showed up nudging his way into Keith’s daily schedule?

He can’t remember.

Lance lets Keith take Ginger out of her carrier for a few minutes, and he cradles her close to his chest, stroking a finger down her fuzzy fur. She looks up at him and yawns. It’s contagious, and Keith yawns in turn.

Yeah, okay; sleeping for more than two hours actually sounds really appealing right now.

Keith lifts her and brushes his lips against the top of her head, before letting Lance take her back. Lance holds her paw and waves it at Keith, which is too adorable for words, before he puts her back in her carrier.

They exchange an awkward goodbye, and then they’re gone.

Keith stands there, listless, for a few moments, before quietly closing the door and turning around.

*

As soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s lights out. 


	31. Chapter 31

Keith doesn’t wake up until more than twelve hours later.

It’s a gradual, peaceful rousing, rolling over onto his back and peeling open his eyes to the light of mid-morning. All is quiet. The memories of the day before melt into him, reminding him why it is so.

He feels… so refreshed.

No headache accompanying him, no heavy eyelids, no stress burrowed in his chest. Keith sighs heavily as he stretches and sits up, reaching over to check his phone. No new messages. His heart sinks a little, but he figures Lance didn’t want to bother Keith as he sleeps, as well as didn’t want to send him pictures of Ginger that would only leave Keith even more aware of her absence.

Part of him wants to message Lance now, let him know that he feels well rested and ready to get back to kitten duty. But then he glances over his room and out the open door to what he can see of the rest of his home.

Laundry, dirty. Dishes, unwashed. Garbage, piled. Bills, unpaid.

Keith groans, and begrudgingly sets his phone back down.

*

The first few hours of the morning are spent attending to chores Keith has neglected as of late.

He’d felt so angry when Lance first withheld Ginger, maybe even a little hurt. But now that he’s had a full nights sleep and his home shines clean, he has to admit Lance was right.

He really doesn’t know what he would have done, if he’d found Ginger at a time before his neighbor befriended him.

*

Keith’s setting the rest of his dishes away when he catches some movement out the window. He stills, studying. Then he smiles.

Tom.

The cat prowls about the edge of the forest, stalking some creature Keith cannot see. Perhaps a mouse, or bird. It’s rare to see any of the cats around his house before their scheduled dinner time, so Keith takes the opportunity to abandon his work and step outside, carefully and quietly. He sits down in his chair to watch Tom’s hunting in action.

Something rustles behind some trees. The cat stops in place, perfectly still like a statue, ears flat and eyes wide, front paw hovered over the foliage. Even his normally animated tail lies low, unmoving.

Keith watches him.

And watches.

And watches.

Tom places his paw down and takes a swift step forward, before stilling again.

This repeats several times.

“Why can’t you be this patient when I feed you?” Keith whispers to himself. The skilled hunter before him is indeed a far cry from the loud, demanding yowls Keith is used to dealing with.

Suddenly Tom pounces, and Keith hears a shrill squeak before whatever creature he’s stalking burrows into the foliage, and Tom digs around for it, getting himself filthy in the process.

This, too, repeats several times.

Yet not one moment does Keith grow bored.

Will Ginger grow up to be a hunter like Tom and the others? Keith wonders. He plans on adopting her as his own, so he thinks he’ll be keeping her inside the house most of the time. But maybe, when she’s old enough, he could introduce her to them…

A new voice interrupts Keith’s musing.

“Oh, uh, hey!”

Keith turns and finds Lance. Carrying Ginger’s carrier in one hand and a tupperware container in the other, Lance nods in lieu of waving.

“Lance!” Keith all but leaps to his feet, rising to meet him. He glances back and forth from the carrier to Lance, unable to pull his eyes away from where he knows his kitten is hidden away, curled in contentment. He beams, and moves to open the door for Lance. “I didn’t think you were going to bring her back until tomorrow.”

Lance’s face falls a little. “Ah. I’m uh… not actually dropping her off, right now.” He follows Keith inside anyway, gently setting the carrier down at his feet. “Are you feeling any better?”

Keith looks at Lance, confused. “Yeah. A lot better, actually. Thanks. But what are you here for, then?”

Lance shifts his weight, looking… uncomfortable? He holds up the tupperware. “Strawberry muffins. My mom made too many, so… and I thought I’d bring Ginger to visit while I was here.”

Keith, admittedly, does not hear much after the words ‘strawberry muffins,’ as he immediately hones in on the container, his mouth watering at the mere suggestion. “Your strawberries?”

Lance huffs a laugh. “Lacoste strawberry muffins, made from scratch with love.” He pauses. “Uh—my mom’s love—she made them, so—,”

“How much?”

Lance blinks. “How much?”

“How much,” Keith says, “do they cost.”

Lance and Keith stare at each other for several moments, before Lance breaks it. “How m—free! I mean, they’re a gift!”

“You said you made too much,” Keith reminds him. “That’s what you said when you got me hooked on your family’s jam.”

“You are never going to let me live that down, are you?” Lance sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Okay fine, they weren’t extra, they were made purposefully for you. You’ve met my mom before, you know how she is, and she kept going on and on about how the stomach is the way to a man’s h—,” Lance cuts himself off suddenly, sputtering. “N-never mind! They’re a gift so take it!” And he all but shoves the tupperware container into Keith’s arms.

Keith’s not sure what’s up with Lance today, why he’s acting so weird—flustered, even—but Keith’s not about to turn down free food and a visit with Ginger. He pops open the lid and picks out a muffin, taking a large bite out of the top without preamble.

It’s still warm from the oven.

The crust crunches satisfyingly in his mouth while the inside is soft like a cloud, and the familiar taste of strawberry melts on his tongue.

Keith has to cover his mouth as he swallows. He’s not above tearing up over Lacoste strawberries but he’d rather not do it in front of Lance.

Lance watches him for reactions, studying. “Good?” he asks.

All Keith can do is nod. “Good,” he murmurs.

Understatement of the century. He’s pretty sure he just saw heaven.

But Lance is happy with that answer, brightening like the sun. “Isn’t it? My mom has a special recipe passed down from her abuela. And not just the recipe but she uses the same muffin pan and oven her abuela had, too. We’ve tried recreating them in other pans and ovens but they just don’t come out the same, y’know?”

Keith’s mouth is stuffed to the brim with his second muffin, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, so he simply nods.

He’s never had anything like this, before. Something made from scratch with tools long passed down.

His mother hadn’t been much of a cook.

*

They eventually settle on Keith’s couch and bring out Ginger from her nap. He holds her close, already missing her from going just one night without her. Her eyes are a little more open, and after she’s tubby and full from a new feeding, she surprises Keith with small rattle-like rumbles.

Purring.

He wipes her mouth and holds her close to his ear so he can listen, his heart swelling. Her tiny paws knead sleepily at his hands and he kisses her forehead, settling her back down in his lap.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “for bringing her.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Lance says with a wave of his hand, sitting next to Keith.

“Thank you for the muffins.”

“That was mostly my mother, so…”

Keith is in such a good mood, he just keeps going. “Thank you for coming here when I called after finding her.”

“Yeah, of course, man.”

“Thank you for teaching me how to take care of her.”

“It’s all cool, really, you don’t have to keep…”

“Thank you for telling me to rest even though I argued with you.”

“…”

“Thank you for all your help. With everything.”

When Keith turns to look at him, Lance has his face hidden in his hands. “Ah, jeez,” he says, muffled, “where is all this coming from, all of a sudden?”

“Just saying. Because I haven’t said it enough, I don’t think.” Keith smiles. “You’re a great person.”

Lance peeks through a gap in his fingers. “You’re trying to kill me, is that it? Kill me of embarrassment?”

Confused, Keith furrows his brow. “Embarrassed? What’s embarrassing about being complimented?”

“Everything! The way you say it, looking at me like—aargh.” Lance threads his fingers through his hair. “It just is. A lot at once.”

Keith rolls his eyes, going back to his attentions to Ginger. “You’re weird, and it’s not embarrassing.”

He doesn’t hear anything from Lance, until a few moments later when he says, “wanna bet?”

Keith looks back at him.

“ _You_ ,” Lance points accusingly, “are a great person. Cats love you, and you love them. You make sure they’re fed everyday, even Putts. When you don’t know something, you work with what you have to learn, and you put your all in it. You’re responsible. And competitive. You’ve got this motorcycle that makes you look awesome when you pass by the farm. You sacrificed sleep just so you can take care of your kitten. Hell, you’re the one who saved her in the first place. You didn’t have to go back for the mama cat when you saw her at the side of the road. Everyone passes by dead animals all the time, but you went back, because you wanted to bury her. And you found Ginger and even though you didn’t know a thing about kittens, you brought her back and asked for help when you needed it. And now you’re going to adopt her and provide a home for her. You… are a good person, Keith.”

Finished with his rant, Lance finally falls into silence. Keith meets his eyes steadily, and they have a brief stare-off.

Then it’s broken with Keith abruptly looks away, his entire face red all the way down to his neck.

“HA!” Lance shouts victoriously. “YOU’RE EMBARRASSED!”

“Sh-shut up!” Keith snaps, glaring at the wall.

“Admit it! You got embarrassed! Don’t even try to lie, I can see that blush all the way from over here!”

“Argh, whatever!” Keith chances a glimpse back, only to see Lance with a smug grin. He turns away. “I don’t even know why I did. Or what this conversation is anymore.”

“Neither do I, but like hell I’m gonna lose!”

*

It’s true though, Keith idly thinks to himself sometime later after Lance leaves with Ginger once again. He does think Lance is a good person.

Really great, actually. And strong, and pretty, and—

Oh.


	32. Chapter 32

Keith spends the remainder of Saturday and Sunday finishing up any other remaining chores, eagerly waiting for Lance to come back up with Ginger. His chest feels light all day, and he even smiles when it’s time to feed the cats and Putts plops himself in front of Keith expectantly. Lance likes Putts, so maybe Keith should try harder to see the cat through Lance’s eyes.

Tom approaches Keith after dinner Sunday, hopping up onto the cat tree gracefully and sitting by Keith’s side. He reaches out a paw and places it on Keith’s arm to grab his attention. Keith turns, and sees Tom holding something in his mouth.

“Whatcha got there, buddy?”

Tom looks at him with his golden eyes, and lets the object fall from his mouth, fluttering to the ground.

A feather.

Keith picks it up, and runs his fingers gently over the vanes. Twirling it around in one hand, he scratches Tom’s chin with the other, smiling at him in gratitude.

“Thanks.”

Tom purrs in response.

Keith doesn’t want to think about just where Tom got the feather from, remembering the prey he was stalking the day before, but he slides it in his hoodie pocket for safekeeping anyway. It’s the thought that counts, after all.

*

Lance shows up with Ginger’s carrier not long afterward, waving as Keith picks up a protesting Pickles from his lap and sets her down, rising to greet Lance.

Lance immediately hands over the carrier to Keith, who takes it gratefully and peers inside. Ginger’s awake, looking around curiously with her tiny eyes. She mewls upon seeing Keith, and his heart swells.

Since the other cats are out, Lance stays a little bit. It’s been a while since they hung out on Keith’s porch with them and just talked. Lance takes Sigur in his lap as always, playing with the laidback cat’s black and white paws.

Keith takes the opportunity to study Lance’s hands. They’re larger than Keith’s, with smooth brown skin and well trimmed nails. Even his cuticles look well taken care of. But there are calluses, too, signs of someone who works on a farm. Those hands had held Ginger so gently the first time he saw her, like she was something so inexplicably precious to him. Keith remembers watching Lance feeding her, holding her head up and letting her knead on the fingers of his other hand. Stroking her soft downy fur. Tickling under her chin.

Keith wonders what it’s like, to be held like he’s something so inexplicably precious to him.

The thought passes so suddenly and unexpectedly he jolts in his seat, drawing a protesting “mrrp” out of Pickles. He can literally feel the heat of the blush on his face, blooming across his cheeks like wildfire.

Lance notices. He chuckles at Pickles, then looks up to Keith. “Woah, you okay, Keith?”

Keith just. Nods.

“Got kinda red there, and we weren’t even having a compliment-a-thon,” he jokes lightly.

“Ha,” says Keith.

A beat passes.

“Okay well actually now that I finally found an acceptable segue into that,” Lance starts suddenly, speaking fast and catching Keith’s attention, “I should probably clear some things up about that.”

Keith stares at him, because he doesn’t really know how to respond to that.

Lance plays with Sigur in his lap with more energy as he continues, air drumming with his front legs so furiously the cat’s paws become a blur. Still, Sigur does little more than blink slowly up at Lance. “You were thanking me before for taking care of Ginger but to be completely honest I spent the entirety of that weekend terrified out of my mind that I was going to mess up and she would die,” he blurts. “Like I built up this rep that I’m like a super cat expert but I’ve never actually fostered a neonatal kitten on my own, that’s always been my sister Catalina, and we’ve had kittens fade away before, they just don’t thrive and grow so they die, and it’s the worst thing ever and I absolutely did not want you to experience that and yet I came over alone anyway and spent the entire time stressing out because if she died it would be all my fault and it would suck majorly because I pretty much fell in love with her at first sight and.” Lance exhales, finally slowing down with his frantic drumming motions with Sigur. “Yeah.”

Keith doesn’t say anything for several moments, and neither does Lance. Which probably isn’t helping since it’s clearly something Lance has been fretting over since yesterday so Keith tries finding the words. He’s never been good with them, but he wants to help Lance stop looking like that. Like he’s worried.

Keith ends up going with: “Was that supposed to change my mind or something?”

Lance gives a wry smirk. “Just saying, if you thought I had it all together, that was definitely not the case.”

Keith replays the weekend in his head. Lance’s admission definitely doesn’t add up with Keith’s memories — he felt like _he_ was the one who was stressed out of his mind while Lance kept him level headed. Keith hadn’t even wanted to leave Ginger alone for a moment! Lance practically had to convince him to go outside. Convinced him with more cats.

So Lance is saying that the entire time, he was also nervous?

By this time Sigur has evidently finally had enough of playing air drums and smoothly rolls off Lance’s lap, sauntering over to the cardboard box to start grooming himself. Lance’s eyes follow him contemplatively.

Keith likes how happy Lance looks when he has a cat, so Keith gets up and plops Pickles into Lance’s lap without a word.

Lance blinks owlishly. Pickles adjusts to the change of lap without complaint, leaning her head into Lance’s hand when he starts petting her automatically. Lance casts a sheepish smile up at Keith, who returns it.

“I’m still incredibly thankful,” he says.

Probably even more so now, really.

 _I like him_ , Keith thinks to himself as he watches Lance coo at Pickles and nuzzle her forehead. _I like him so much_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance playing with Sigur:
> 
> https://youtu.be/aQeIDhz-_eg
> 
>  
> 
> (Bonus: Keith playing with Sigur):
> 
> https://youtu.be/yWcak9tZupc


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ginger at current age ref:
> 
> https://youtu.be/k9JFw11whaI

After that weekend, Keith and Lance organize a kitten duty schedule that’s much easier on Keith. He’ll take her a few nights, but never too many in a row and as soon as he starts feeling fatigued in the day he lets Lance know so Lance can take over and give Keith a break. As Ginger grows older, she won’t need to be fed as often, which means more sleep, and, hopefully, more time with Ginger.

As it is, she’s just turned three weeks and eats every three hours. Her eyes are much wider open, round and innocent, but still far from full development. Her ears have started unfolding, as well, and one time when Keith snapped his fingers he saw them twitch a little, which means she’s starting to hear.

She wants to explore, too, always squirming and wriggling wherever she’s given the room. The kitten is no longer contented with staying still on Keith’s chest whenever he lies down with her on the couch, instead attempting to balance on unsteady legs as she looks around. Keith lets her move as she pleases, keeping a close eye on her, feeling her tiny paws digging into his shirt whenever she stumbles. Which is often. It’s rather fascinating how utterly uncoordinated she is, considering the other cats he’s met are the most graceful animals he’s ever seen.

He almost falls asleep like that, but then Ginger suddenly loses her balance and rolls off the side of Keith’s chest with a squeal. She lands in the crook of his arm, all four paws in the air akimbo.

Keith huffs a chuckle, watching the way she stares up at him with those large doe eyes. On impulse he reaches over with his other hand and tickles her fluffy belly. She swipes at his fingers, and tries kicking, but she just ends up looking like a particularly squirmy starfish.

Keith grins at the realization that she’s _playing_.

She’s at that stage, Keith remembers Lance telling him. The little hunter that dwells within her is starting to wake up, manifesting as the desire to leap, pounce, and play. No longer will her life consist of nothing but eating and sleeping.

Keith can’t wait to watch her grow up and develop her own personality. What kind of adult cat will she be? Will she be aloof, like Tom? Affectionate, like Pickles? Laidback, like Sigur? Will she bond to another cat, like Nicki Meownaj and Antoinette?

Keith continues playing with Ginger as he reminisces, wiggling his fingers and tickling her belly. He’s actually surprised she hasn’t complained about her positioning yet; she never did like being on her back before. But now she’s too busy learning her limbs, tail curling up in the air.

He doesn’t know how long they play, but eventually she starts slowing down, and as soon as she releases her first yawn Keith knows she’s a goner.

She ends up falling asleep like that, safe and snug in the crook of Keith’s arm. He watches her with soft, fond eyes, and refuses to get up even when his stomach growls in hunger. Nope. Can’t do it. She’s too precious to wake up.

*

Later, when Keith goes out to clean the cat’s food bowls, his eyes glance over Pickles curled up in his chair, to Sigur grooming himself in the cardboard box, to Putts rolled on his back on the patio…

“Tom?” he says aloud.

Keith goes back and forth, glancing over the patio railing, and even walks a lap around the house, but he doesn’t see the orange and white tomcat anywhere.

The last time Tom disappeared like that was when a storm came through, and Keith didn’t see him for days. It feels so long ago, now.

And Keith remembers Lance telling him about how the community barncats sometimes move on to another farm from time to time, making the rounds.

Keith’s heart sinks in his chest.

Did Tom leave him…?

“Tom!”

“Mow.”

Keith whips around. There, up on the roof of his house, sits Tom proudly.

Keith gapes. “How in the world… did you get up there?!”

Tom doesn’t answer, lifting a paw to groom his face. Keith just stares at him for a bit, trying to figure out his trajectory. He must have climbed all the way up a tree and leaped onto the roof. Sure, it scared Keith half to death, but also… that was kind of cool.

Man, Lance would have loved to have seen this.

Wait.

“Stay right there,” Keith commands suddenly, pointing at Tom. “Don’t move.” He then runs inside the house, swiping his phone off from the table and dashing back out in record time. Thankfully, Tom didn’t move a muscle.

Keith takes a moment to center the cat in his camera phone, before snapping a picture. He immediately sends it to Lance.

  
[ Lance ]  
OH MY GOD  
SO TALENTED  
AMAZINGN JOB  
TELL HIM I’M PROUD OF HIM!!

  
“Lance is proud of you,” Keith calls up to Tom.

“Mow,” says Tom.

Keith grins and glances back down to his messages with Lance, his cheeks growing warm.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/1F8oSjriDp0

Friday evening Keith comes home from work and Lance hands Ginger over, agreeing to let Keith keep her over the weekend since they managed Keith’s shifts much better over that week.

But then Saturday morning comes and Keith wakes up to Ginger having had a little… accident in her box.

He’d spent so long helping her potty, he’d almost forgotten that at some point cats were supposed to start eliminating on their own. The box is a mess, waste smeared all over the blankets and on Ginger’s poor little hind end. Keith takes out the blankets quickly, but as for cleaning her up, he’s not sure what to do.

As always, his first instinct is to contact Lance.

In lieu of explaining what happened, he snaps a quick picture of Ginger in her mess and sends it to Lance.

  
[ Keith ]  
Um.

[ Lance ]  
oh noooo poor baby!

[ Keith ]  
What do I do

[ Lance ]  
hold on lemme come up and we can give her a bath

  
Lance shows up at Keith’s door not ten minutes later, and together they give Ginger her first ever bath.

She doesn’t end up liking it very much, but she’s a trooper. Even though she makes a point to complain, and loudly. Lance shows Keith the ropes in kitty baths; how warm to keep the water and what kind of shampoo to use, to make sure to keep the water out of her ears and eyes, etc. It’s all a very quick process, and soon enough Ginger is dried off and wrapped up in a professionally made purrito. With all the fuss over, she calms down, and even starts purring and kneading at the towel wrapped around her.

Keith nearly has a heart attack from how cute she is. Lance takes a picture to commemorate the occasion.

After that, Lance teaches Keith about litter box training. For now, she’ll need a shallow box, like a cardboard lid, and some pellet litter. She needs more room to move around as well, now that she’s getting older. And some toys to stimulate play. And Keith’s running out of kitten formula. And soon she’ll want to be introduced to wet food as well.

The list seems to go on and on. Eventually Keith and Lance look at each other, and Lance smiles. “Shopping trip?” he asks.

*

That is how Keith finds himself walking down the aisle of the local pet supplies store, with Lance pushing a cart next to him. It already holds kitten formula, kitten litter, kitten wet food, a cat tree, and other such kitten essentials. Lance offers to loan Keith one of the playpens his sister uses when fostering, since he won’t need it once the kitten grows up into a cat, so at least that’s taken care of.

So now, at that moment, they’re perusing through the toys.

They brought Ginger along, of course. Keith has her in her fancy little carrier, strap thrown over his shoulder. She sniffs at her surroundings from the safe interior, mewing every once in a while.

“Hey, bring her out real quick,” says Lance.

Keith raises an eyebrow, but does what Lance says. He carefully withdraws the kitten, cradling her gently in his hands.

Lance holds up two toys in front of her. A mouse, and a butterfly.

Ginger stares at them both, but after several seconds of deliberation, she softly baps the butterfly toy.

Lance puts it in the cart.

They do this with a few more toys, and their cart ends up with some jingling balls, feather teasers, a pop-up tunnel, and a scratching board that’s shaped like a tiny couch. Ginger picks them all. Keith thinks of it as an apology for that morning.

Once they’ve checked everything off their list, they head to check out. The cashier greets Lance by name, and the two chat with each other as she rings them up, Keith silently arranging the bags back into the cart. When she tells him the total, he must have visibly winced because Lance gives him this look out of the corner of his eye. Keith hands over his card, knowing he may have to tap into his savings a little. He gives a polite goodbye to the cashier after Lance, and they head out.

Making their way across the parking lot, Lance says, “If you ever need help with cat expenses, you know I’m more than willing, right?”

“It’s fine,” Keith says. “It’s not like I’ll be spending like this every month, so, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” Keith repeats, a little sternly. They reach his car and he unlocks the doors, setting Ginger’s carrier in the back seat before opening the trunk and helping Lance load up. Looking for a change in subject, he says, “You sure do know everyone around here.”

“Rosa? Yeah, we were in the same grade in highschool,” Lance says, picking up one side of the cat tree box and helping Keith set it down inside. “Took her toooo… homecoming,” he decides. “Sophomore year. More like she took me, but, yeah. She’s super cool.”

“Oh,” says Keith. He loads another heavy bag.

“You ever went?”

“Where?”

“Homecoming. Or prom, dances and stuff.”

“No… Wasn’t really my thing.”

“You know, I probably should have figured.”

They finish loading and park the cart away. On their way back to the car Keith says, “I like the quiet.”

“Ha, I’m _definitely_ not quiet,” Lance quips, his voice casual.

But Keith doesn’t ever want Lance to think he doesn’t like him, for any reason. “You’re an exception,” he blurts without thinking.

Lance stops, blinks. Keith also stills in place, meeting his eyes. Then Lance chuckles a little, scratching the back of his neck, and beams. “Aww, I’m _special!_ ”

 _You are_ , Keith thinks as they get into the car. _You really, really are._

As soon as he turns the ignition, Lance turns to him and asks, “Hey by the way, you hungry yet?”

Keith thinks about. “Not really, but… why?”

“Have you ever been to Diana’s?”

“Who?”

“This super good restaurant, it’s near here. They’ve got the best burgers in the valley. You wanna stop by?”

Lance tap-tap-taps his fingers on his knees as he waits for Keith to answer. He’s smiling. Keith likes that smile.

“Yeah, sure,” Keith finally says. “Can you give me directions?”

That smile stretches into a beam as Keith pulls out the parking lot.

*

Keith doesn’t realize just how long it’s been since he’s had fast food until he has the first taste of burger and subsequently reaches nirvana. He proceeds to stuff his face, like he can’t eat it fast enough. Lance, sitting next to him in the car, laughs. They’d gone through the drive-thru and parked instead of eating inside, so they wouldn’t have to leave Ginger alone. The car fills with the smell of greasy burgers and fries, warm and heavenly.

“Oh my god. I told you it was good,” Lance says, eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Mm-hmm,” hums Keith.

Ginger, awake in her carrier, starts mewing loudly. Keith knows it’s not her feeding time yet. He turns around in his seat to glance at her in the back, then looks at Lance.

“Aw, you wanna join us up here?” says Lance. He quickly reaches in the back and zips open the carrier, drawing Ginger carefully out and holds her in his hands. “You feeling lonely back there?”

Ginger wriggles in his hold, looking around the car with curious eyes. Keith pauses in his voracious eating to watch.

Lance sets her down over the dashboard and lets her have free rein. At first she doesn’t move, curling herself in a tight little ball, but after a few moments she gathers the courage to explore. She moves on uncoordinated legs, taking care with each step, and sniffs at the dashboard. Lance has already whipped out his phone for more pictures.

Smiling, Keith finishes his burger and crunches the paper wrapping into a ball. Ginger’s ears twitch at the noise, and finally seems to notice how far away Keith is sitting from her. She squeaks and trots across the dashboard, and Keith has to lurch in his seat to catch her before she slips off and falls to the floor.

He places her in his lap, but the kitten’s not done exploring. She takes her adventure to Keith’s shirt, climbing up the fabric as she stares up at him and mewls adorably. After a few inches it looks like she reaches her limit, and Keith decides to help out by reclining the seat a little. She continues climbing up his shirt, her claws tiny little pinpricks poking through. Every time she slows down, he reclines more, and soon enough she reaches his collar, her tail lifting in the air in triumph.

She baps at his chin. Keith kisses her paw.

A camera shutter interrupts the moment. Lance grins at them from behind his phone.

Keith sits up straight, cupping Ginger in his hands. “Lance—,”

“Nope! Not deleting. Saving this immediately.” Lance taps his fingers across the screen, and a moment later Keith’s phone pings in his pocket. He doesn’t want to look at it; he’s never been good with photos.

Keith shoots Lance a look and frowns, Ginger squirming and meowing constantly in his hands. Lance holds his ground. “Come on. You two are adorable and you’re going to want as many father-daughter pictures as possible because she’s going to grow up before you can blink, trust me.”

Keith doesn’t trust himself to keep his composure after possibly just being called adorable by Lance, so he keeps his mouth shut. To calm Ginger down, he leans back in his seat again, and allows her to continue her mapping out of his collarbone.

“Whatever,” he mumbles petulantly. “Just warn me next time.”

Lance snickers, but he does put his phone away after that.

Eventually Ginger discovers the collar of his shirt, and paws at the opening at his neck. She dips her face in, and then slowly crawls inside. Her paws tickle Keith’s skin and he can’t help but chuckle, and the movement makes Ginger lose her balance. She ends up sliding down Keith’s chest from under his shirt, her claws digging into his skin the whole way.

“Ow—!”

Sitting up straight, Keith lifts his shirt hem. Ginger spills out into his lap. She rights herself and mews innocently.

“You are ridiculous,” he tells her, and then lifts his shirt higher to check the damage. Tiny red lines trail down his abdomen, but thankfully she didn’t draw any blood. “Is it safe to start trimming her nails at this age?” he asks.

“Abs,” says Lance faintly.

Keith stares at him.

“I—I mean absolutely, yeah, absolutely!” Lance amends, then stuffs a large bite of burger into his mouth and looks out the window.

Keith thinks there was a pair of cat nail clippers somewhere in the pile of supplies he’s just bought. “Will you show me how when we get back?”

“Mmhmm, mmhmm,” Lance hums, nodding his head rapidly and holding a thumbs up.

Keith smiles. “Thanks.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/EHppb_sSmIM

The following week is the week of New Things.

Keith introduces Ginger to the litter box for the first time, setting a small shallow box in the corner of the play pen Lance loaned him and shaking some litter pellets into it. Ginger comes over to investigate, sniffing at the edge of the cardboard box before tentatively placing a paw inside. Then she withdraws the paw and looks up at Keith.

“Go on,” he says.

Slowly, she steps inside again, and begins sniffing at the pellets. She doesn’t move much, however, simply observing.

“Here,” Keith uses his fingers to dig around the litter in demonstration, “you just dig, and then you… go. And then cover it up.”

Ginger stares at him.

Then she sits down inside the litter box and starts batting at one of the pellets.

“... No.”

Keith tries picking her up and manually guiding her paw into digging, but she wriggles out of his hold with an offended squeak.

“I know you have to go,” Keith says, frowning. “You always do right after I feed you.”

Ginger flops onto her side and starts playing with the pellet like it’s a toy. Keith sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, fine,” he murmurs, and stands up to find a tissue. He helps her potty like before, but keeps the litter box inside the pen in case Ginger ever manages to figure it out.

But when Keith passes by a couple hours later to find Ginger _napping_ inside the litter box, he resigns to just letting Lance train her when he’s on kitten duty. He has more experience with this kind of thing anyway, so he’d probably get it right.

*

In the next few days Ginger turns four weeks old, and Keith decides to start the process of weaning her onto solid food. Her teeth have started coming in and she chews on the bottle nipple, so Keith figures now is as good a time as any.

He lets her out of the pen to roam free as he prepares her meal. He’s been giving her more time to explore the house on her own, but she always ends up following after him wherever he goes like a little duckling. Right now she pads around his feet impatiently as he stands at the kitchen counter, mixing her old kitten formula with a little bit of kitten wet food. Keith’s noticed lately that she has a particular kind of meow she uses when she’s hungry—like a squeaking door in serious need of oil.

“I hear you,” he says, stirring the mix together into something like a slop.

Ginger implores him to hurry it up.

He’s almost done when he feels sharp little pinpricks digging into his shin and glances down to see Ginger attempting to climb his leg, mewing up at him. “Oh my god.” Chuckling to himself, he reaches down and pries her off, setting her down and then finally placing the shallow bowl of formula and wet food mix in front of her.

After all her complaining, Ginger just stares at the bowl. It’s the first time she’s being fed without a bottle, so it’s understandable that she may be a little confused.

“Here,” Keith says gently, kneeling down and dabbing a bit of slop on his finger and holding it up to her. “It’s food.”

Ginger sniffs at the finger, and then tentatively licks at it. Once she cleans it off Keith withdraws his hand and pushes the bowl closer to her. She sniffs at the edge of the bowl.

Then she steps into the bowl.

And shoves her face into the slop and, judging by the kneading movement of her paws, tries to suckle from the bowl.

“NO oh my god you’re going to suffocate yourself—,” Keith cries in alarm and grabs her, drawing her away before the kitten can accidentally inhale the food. Luckily she doesn’t cough or sneeze or anything but, oh dear. Her face. Her entire face.

She’s dripping in formula, her fur a wet milky white from her ears all the way down to her little paws. She licks at her lips and nose, blinking blearily at Keith. She has the nerve to be purring.

Keith can’t help it.

He tries holding it in, but it’s just too much.

After a shaky chuckle, he bursts out laughing, and it’s a long while before he can stop.

*

The next New Thing Ginger experiences is officially meeting the other cats.

For the last few days Keith has been letting Ginger roam freely while keeping the front door open, and the screen door closed. It’s allowed Ginger to walk up to the cats who gathered at Keith’s door without a worry, and many times Keith has spotted them all sniffing at each other.

The first time it happened, Ginger arched her back and bristled her fur, sidewalking like a crab as she stared down Tom and Sigur who were sitting together on the other side of the door. Of course, no one in the vicinity found her particularly threatening. If anything she just looked like an adorable puffed up orange cotton ball.

Thankfully she’s gradually become more comfortable with their presence and scents, trotting up to them and standing up on her hind legs to get a closer look, touching noses with another cat through the barrier. After several days of this, Keith thinks it’s a good time to remove that barrier.

Ginger pads after him as he walks to the screen door, keeping close to his feet when he opens it. At first she doesn’t move away from his side, even when Tom stretches his neck closer to sniff. Keith takes a step over the threshold, leaving Ginger behind and keeping the door held open. She decides quickly to follow after him.

After that, it’s all one big cautious sniff-fest. Each cat takes turns greeting Ginger for the first time, the kitten meeting them all head on. Keith stays close by in case anything happens of course, but thankfully everyone stays calm and relaxed, easygoing as always. It’s almost a little anticlimactic, if Keith has to be honest. They’re all just smelling each other.

He sits down in his chair, and Ginger follows, standing by his feet. Keith takes the hint and picks her up, settling her down in his lap.

That’s when Pickles makes her entrance, announcing her presence with a soft ‘mrrp’ as she leaps up onto his lap with Ginger. Keith pets her, stroking a hand down her back as she inspects Ginger with a touch of her nose.

Then Pickles licks Ginger’s face.

She was gentle, but it still catches the kitten off guard enough to lose her balance and roll over in Keith’s lap. She barely has the time to recover before Pickles is licking her again, and Keith realizes she must grooming her. His heart swells, even as Ginger protests weakly to getting her first cat bath.

It’s a week filled with firsts, and he can’t wait for her to experience even more.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes this time around:
> 
> 1\. Fanart!! Ahh!!
> 
> http://dreamicide.tumblr.com/post/171963353616/nickyawesome-kitty-kat-and-keith-aka-a-little
> 
> 2\. I started writing this before we ever knew Lance was actually the youngest sibling, and I’d already made several OC’s I’ve gotten rather attached to. Now that we have Lance’s sibling’s names in s5, I just want to say that in this fic he’s the middle child and all their names are non-canon. 
> 
> 3\. I also started this fic back when no one really knew whether Keith’s mother was alive or dead, and his character profile said he was an orphan. In this fic he’s still an orphan who grew up in foster care, and his mother is very much dead.
> 
> 4\. I don’t say it nearly enough, but thank you all for your kudos and comments. They mean the absolute world to me, and I go back and reread them whenever I need a pick-me-up or motivation to keep writing. I honestly never expected more than a handful of people would enjoy this fic, after all there’s hardly any plot at all! I kept writing it because it soothes and calms me down, and I’m so so happy that other people are getting that feeling as well. Thank you, everyone. ❤️

Lance hasn’t arrived to drop off Ginger for the night yet, so Keith takes his time feeding the other cats that evening. They’ve been in a very playful mood lately, all pounces and bunny kicks and chasing one another. Keith wonders if it has anything to do with their close proximity to such a young kitten, bringing out their inner youth. Whatever the case, he enjoys the show they provide him.

When they all tire down and flop on their sides, some grooming one another, Keith rises from his chair and goes to make himself dinner. He keeps an eye out the window for Lance, and when he finally spots his neighbor approaching the house with Ginger’s carrier in tow, Keith is there to answer the door before Lance has the chance to knock. Lance smiles, as it’s not the first time.

“So,” Lance starts off, “I’ve got a couple of stalkers that followed me up here today.”

Keith blinks. “… Nicki Meownaj and Antoinette…?”

“No, it’s…” Lance looks from side to side a moment, checking his surroundings, before taking a step forward and leaning into Keith’s space. Keith freezes, breath seizing in his lungs and eyes widening. He can see every freckle dotting Lance’s nose, the faint scar on his bottom lip, the blue of his eyes.

So close. So close. So close soclosesoclosesoclose—

Lance cups his hand by his mouth like he’s sharing a secret, and whispers conspiratorially, “my younger siblings.”

His breath smells like mint.

“Oh,” says Keith.

“Yeah, so like,” Lance continues, “I think they got this crazy idea in their heads that they can embarrass me in front of my friends. Bless their precious little hearts. They still haven’t figured out that I am completely shameless and always turn their efforts around back onto them.”

“Uh huh,” says Keith.

Lance gives a playful wink before standing back, and Keith blinks as if out of a daze. His brain finally catches up to the conversation as Lance turns and shouts, “Okay guys, I know you’re out there!”

Two teenagers appear from behind a tree. The girl looks to be on the cusp of middle school and high school, her skin a shade darker than Lance’s and soft brown hair shortened into a pixie cut. She dresses in all pastels, with a bright and friendly smile to match. The boy is a few inches taller, and a bit older. Skin roughly the same shade as Lance’s, and hair a dark brown that curls around his ears, longer than his sister’s. He wears a black baseball tee and matching cap, hands tucked into his jean pockets. A messenger bag is slung casually over his shoulder. He gives a polite nod.

As they approach the porch Lance gives the introductions. “I dunno if you remember them well but it’s been a long time, so. Little refresher.” He slings his arms over both siblings’ shoulders and hugs them close. He jostles the boy first. “This dashingly handsome fellow is Emilio, captain of the high school baseball team and future pro.”

“Still not captain,” Emilio sighs with a roll of his eyes, like this is a conversation they’ve had before.

“Future captain, whatever! It’s happening! Coach would be an idiot to not pick you next year and everyone knows it.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Emilio grumbles, hiding his face under the bill of his cap.

Lance sends Keith a huge grin, triumphant, before moving on to the girl at his other side.

“And this is my little sister Priscila. The baby of the family, and she is way too smart for her own good. We all agree it took mom four tries before she finally managed to create a straight A kid.”

“Turned out to be the only thing straight about me,” she quips.

“Seriously, not even her spine is straight. Got mad scoliosis, like it’s a perfectly shaped—,”

“ _Lance_ ,” Priscila whispers in warning. Then, “Hi Keith. It’s nice to meet you again.”

Emilio draws out a hand from his pocket long enough to give a single wave, before tucking it back in.

“Uh.” Still reeling from Lance’s earlier closeup, Keith stumbles over his words a little as he greets the two. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

He remembers them only slightly, from the time Lance’s entire family welcomed Keith to their small town. He almost can’t believe how long ago it was, and how much his thoughts of one particular member has changed. Keith was so silent and awkward back then, he couldn’t imagine Lance had thought much of him either.

Keith could feel that awkwardness coming back now, unsure of what to say or do. He’d only expected Lance to come up with Ginger, not to introduce himself to his family all over again.

As if Lance senses Keith’s feelings, he pats his siblings on the back and tells Keith, “But seriously, if they start bothering you lemme know and I can make ‘em scram.”

“We brought a peace offering though,” Priscila says to Lance. “Emilio.”

Emilio opens his messenger bag and pulls out a cat.

“They can stay,” Keith says.

*

They all sit on the steps of the porch as they introduce the new cat to Keith. She’s a small brown tabby with green eyes and a notch in her ear, indicating her community cat status. She lifts her head into anyone’s hand who’s close enough and rumbles a peaceful purr.

“Her name’s Bean,” says Emilio. “She was the runt of her litter. This is her full size.”

Keith can hardly believe it. All the other cats are easily twice her size.

Speaking of the other cats, from around the corner they all gradually appear, curious at all the commotion. Pickles and Putts hang back, cautious, until they have the chance to sniff and recognize Bean’s scent as a familiar one and they relax. Tom, however, hisses at the strange scent and slinks away.

Sigur has no opportunity to react to Bean at all, as he’s spotted by Priscila and she immediately squeals out.

“ _Sigur!_ ” Before the cat can blink, he’s scooped up into her arms and receiving many affectionate kisses. Nuzzling his head, Priscila whips around to glare at Lance. “You didn’t tell me he was here!”

Lance holds his hands up placatingly. “Slipped my mind?”

Priscila huffs, and sits back down next to Emilio. “I named him, y’know?” she tells Keith.

“Oh… yeah,” says Keith. “I remember Lance telling me that.”

Priscila proceeds to play with the cat’s paws, squishing his toe beans and watching the way his claws unsheath. “Yeah, I was going through a Sigur Rós phase.”

_Was_ , Lance mouths at Keith with finger-quotes.

Keith turns and hides his smile.

He finds it easier to talk with his family this time around. He wonders if all the cats everywhere have anything to do with it. Or perhaps Lance himself.

At some point they hear a loud meow coming from above, and every head turns to see Tom sitting proudly on the roof again, his sharp golden eyes observing his territory.

Keith glances at Lance’s siblings, who gawk in awe, before looking at Lance. “I still have no idea how he does that,” he says. 


	37. Chapter 37

Lance and his siblings stay for a while, going through a myriad of topics so rapidly Keith can barely keep up.

He likes it though; watching Lance with his two younger siblings. It feels like seeing Lance in his own environment. His voice raises naturally with them, gesticulating wildly with his hands. Keith doesn’t mind staying out of Lance’s focus, watching from the sidelines with a soft smile as he idly scratches behind Bean’s ear.

Priscila and Emilio continue their efforts to embarrass Lance, but he throws them off every time. Apparently Lance spends over an hour in the bathroom every morning and night, to which Lance proudly displays his flawless skin. They mention past instances of Lance getting in trouble at school; Lance tells the detailed stories. (Apparently the high school principal knows him by name.) Then they try embarrassing him with the story of how he once tripped and fell on Priscila when she was a baby, but Lance only clutches his little sister tight to his chest and dramatically wails about how sorry he still feels and coos at her with baby names.

“I could have killed you! Whatever would I have done without you in my life? My light, the apple of my freakin’ eye, my precious Priscilita, little Miss Priss—,”

“ _Leandro!_ ” Priscila hisses, looking mortified.

“Oh, she’s serious,” Lance laughs, and pulls away.

Keith bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Emilio and Priscila seem to be at that age where it’s really important that they look as cool as possible in front of others. He remembers that phase well.

“But seriously,” Lance says, “you two are way too young to remember any of my real embarrassing stories. Now, Catalina and Sebastián? They’ve got some _dirt_ on me.”

Everyone shares a laugh at that, and the siblings concede their defeat. They just can’t catch Lance off guard. They move on to asking Keith about his life, what he does, how he came to have so many cats around his house when he doesn’t even have a garden for them to keep rodents from. They fawn over Ginger, having seen her whenever Lance brings her back home for kitten duty, and even sometimes helped out Lance whenever he was busy. The stuffed hippo from before, evidently, belonged to Priscila.

The visit extends for a while, and the sun slowly sets over the mountains. At a brief lull in conversation, Priscila cups her chin in her hands and chirps, “So Keith! Are you coming to our get-together this weekend?”

Keith blinks. Lance stills.

“Your what?”

Priscila tilts her head. “This thing we do, the whole neighborhood.”

“Sssss…” hisses Lance quietly.

“Every month someone hosts a big dinner, and this weekend is our turn.”

“Hsst!” Lance nudges her shoulder.

“It’s not like a party or anything, we just have all the neighbors show up to hang out and stuff. You should come! I’m surprised Lance didn’t invite you already!”

Keith, Priscila, and Emilio all turn to look at Lance. His face is dark with blush, and he scowls at Priscila. “I was going to,” he murmurs.

“What, you don’t want him to come?” says Emilio.

“That is absolutely not what I said or meant!” Lance squeaks in the highest pitch Keith has ever heard him. “I was going to bring it up! Tomorrow or something! You guys just beat me to the punch!”

Emilio and Priscila share a look, their eyes mischievous. So they did manage to find a way to embarrass Lance after all.

“Ohh, were you gonna ask him in a _special_ way…?”

“Aww!”

“Guys,” Lance chokes out.

“See, Keith, now you absolutely _have_ to come!” Priscila says, smiling at Keith.

“Um,” says Keith. Forgive him, there’s been a lot for him to process in the last minute. And now he’s in the center of attention; Priscila and Emilio looking at him expectantly, and Lance glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “I, uh…”

His cell phone suddenly lights up and rings loudly in his pocket. A reminder that it’s time for Ginger’s first feeding of the night.

“WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME IT’S HECKA DARK O’CLOCK,” Lance blurts, shooting out of his seat. He holds his hands out for his siblings. “Come along now children, we’ve taken up enough of his evening.”

The next minute is a rush. Emilio and Priscila complain lightly but begrudgingly gather their things; Priscila lets Sigur go, and Emilio gently places Bean back into his messenger bag. They give friendly goodbyes, and with an “OKAY BYE KEITH SEE YOU LATER KEITH,” the three siblings are gone. Keith barely moves throughout the scene, blinking in confusion. He hadn’t even given his answer on the get-together thing, which honestly he was a little glad because he hasn’t decided himself, yet. On one hand, he’s not the best with crowds, but on the other, it’s Lance’s family.

Keith doesn’t get to mull it over for long; Ginger wakes up from inside her carrier and immediately demands for food. Huffing a laugh, Keith picks up the carrier and takes her inside, letting her run free as he prepares her first meal of the night.

He’s in the middle of mixing her slop when his phone dings with a text message.

  
[ Lance ]  
-ugh sorry about all that  
-i really was going to tell you about the social thing just with a lot less  
-pressure?  
-like i remembered how you were the first time we met and was just figuring that being around lots of people wasn’t really your thing   
-so i WAS PLANNING on telling you but without all the “you absolutely must come” stuff because i didn’t want you to feel pressured especially if you weren’t even going to have fun so   
-sibs totally caught me off guard lmao damn

  
Keith hurries up to finish Ginger’s dinner before replying, as the kitten grows very demanding and climbs up his pant leg. He mixes in a rush, and when he sets it down he takes a moment to make sure Ginger is eating properly and not stuffing her face in all at once and risking asphyxiation. She doesn’t, thankfully, though she still makes quite a mess of her face. Keith allows him a moment to feel proud before going back to his phone and rereading Lance’s messages.

Again, he’s reminded of the time he thought of Lance as an attentive friend. He smiles fondly to himself, thinking of a reply. Before he starts typing, another message comes in.

  
[ Lance ]  
-so yeah hey we’re having this thing this weekend! if you want to come, cool! if you don’t want to come, also cool! it’s up to you!

  
A feeling Keith has not felt for a very long time wells in his chest, causing him pause. He hates that feeling. That first instinct that tells him to run.

No.

Pull back.

Abort.

Leave first.

He swallows it down.

  
[ Keith ]  
-Would you like me to come?

[ Lance ]  
-i mean duh that’s a given but only if you’ll enjoy yourself  
-i don’t want it if you’ll only be miserable the whole time you know?

[ Keith ]  
-Yeah, I get it.   
-You’re right though, I’m not the best around people.   
-But… I think it’ll be fine?

[ Lance ]  
-yeah?

[ Keith ]  
-Yeah. Sure. I’ll come.

[ Lance ]  
-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
-YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  
Keith hides his face in his hands, unable to smother the grin stretching his lips.

Yeah, even if he doesn’t end up having fun, it was already worth it for that reaction. 


	38. Chapter 38

In the days since Keith first introduced Ginger to the litter box and solid (ish) food, she’s gotten a lot better at using them. Probably more to Lance’s credit than anything. Lance has also given Keith some advice about letting her outside with the other cats; that for now it’s for the best they’re kept separated, at least until Ginger has received her vaccinations. That could take a couple of weeks, so Keith tries making it up to Ginger by giving her extra love and attention when he has her.

Even in the small amount of time she’s been with the outside cats, Keith notices the way they’ve influenced her. She’s started to display grooming behaviors, mostly nibbling adorably on one of her paws as Keith cradles her. She reminds him of a baby sucking on its thumb.

To mimic a cat grooming her with its tongue, Keith uses an unused toothbrush to give her little brushing sessions every once in a while. Ginger rather enjoys it, letting him brush over her belly and the top of her head, styling her fur. She lies still for the most part, purring happily, at least until she grows bored and begins pawing at the brush and gnawing on it. Then she’s in the mood to play, and Keith brings out several toys for her to jump and pounce at. Her favorite is the butterfly stuffie, though she’s also fond of the jingling balls as well. Still a bit clumsy on her feet, she leaps and stumbles, batting at the bells loudly and attacking the butterfly with little bunny kicks. Keith sits cross-legged on the floor, engaging her in play. At one point she begins to climb up on his knee, then attempts further up his shirt.

Her endeavors help Keith decide it’s about time he sets up the cat tree he’d bought with Lance for her.

It becomes the project for the night. The pictures on the box show a tall cat tree with several platforms, a cubby to hide in, scratching pads, and a dangling feather toy. All of it fits in a box Keith can hold in his arms.

First he unpacks everything, then gives Ginger the box to play in. It’s hilariously huge compared to the small kitten, looking like she’s hiding in a cave. Keith arranges all the many pieces of the tree around him and finds the instruction paper. As he reads over it, Ginger leaps out from the box and pounces on the paper, before scampering back to the safety of the box. She trips over her own feet and flops on her side, staring up at Keith with wide eyes.

“You,” Keith reminds her, picking her up in his hands and holding her up eye level, “are ridiculous.” Then he presses a sweet kiss to her forehead because he really can’t resist.

Setting her back down, Keith flicks a jingle bell away for Ginger to chase, and goes back to reading over the instructions. The sounds of her batting wildly at the ball provide background noise as Keith finds the bottom platform and begins building the tree from the ground up. Finding all the right parts is a little difficult, but he manages.

After a while, the sounds of Ginger’s bell stops, and a minute later he feels sharp claws digging into his back. Ginger climbs all the way up, and sits perched on his shoulder proudly. Keith chuckles, and sets her back down. She pads off somewhere with her tail raised high and he goes back to his work.

Not five minutes go by before she’s back again, climbing up onto Keith’s shoulder.

“Really?” Keith asks once she’s settled by his neck, tail curled around her body in triumph.

“Mreer!” squeaks Ginger.

So, okay. Guess this is his life now.

Keith continues to work on the cat tree while keeping his movements slow, so that the kitten can practice her balance. She nibbles playfully on his ear and bats at his hair, her chest rumbling sweet purrs. Whenever he shifts forward on the ground to reach for something, Ginger crawls on his back until he rights himself and she returns to his shoulder. She explores thoroughly, moving from one side to the other.

“Just so you know, I’m building this so you can climb on it all the time, and not me,” Keith tells her when he’s almost done.

“Mreer,” says Ginger.

The project lasts throughout the night. The sun begins to rise over the mountains by the time Keith stands before the completed tree, cradling Ginger in his arms. She stares at it with interest, and squirms in his hold in attempt to get closer. Keith steps forward and places her on one of the platforms near the dangling toy, and watches as she explores.

When she’s done she sits down and blinks up at him. Keith barely has the time to react before she’s wiggling her rump and pouncing back into his arms. Then she starts climbing up the front of his shirt. Back onto his shoulder.

“What.”

Ginger purrs, rubbing her head behind Keith’s ear.

“ _What_.”

Keith has to get ready for work like that. When it’s time to leave and Lance finally shows up to take Ginger for the day, Keith greets the door with her still perched on his shoulder happily.

Lance immediately takes a picture. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few updates will probably be slower than usual. Thank you all for your comments and kudos. ❤️


	39. Chapter 39

“Okay…” Gently, Keith lowers the exhausted, sleepy kitten in his arms into the playpen, tucking a ring of blankets around her. Ginger looks up at him with slow blinking eyes, and yawns, showing off her little fangs. She barely has the time to curl herself into a tight ball before she’s fast asleep. He gives her soft tummy a light poke. No budge. 

It’s the day of the dinner at Lance’s, and Keith has spent the last few hours making sure he can leave Ginger by herself by the time he leaves. He’s fed her and played with her vigorously, and now she’s all tuckered out after leaping and pouncing. Keith can’t believe how much energy she had to spend before getting to this state. He even has to give himself a little break before changing and getting ready. From what Lance has told him and his online research, her energy is only going to increase in the coming weeks once she finally gets a hang of her limbs. He hopes he’ll be ready for it.

For now, Keith leaves her be as he changes into a casual black button up and jeans, figuring it enough for a laid-back dinner between neighbors. Unsure if he was supposed to bring something of his own to offer, and extra unsure if alcohol was within good etiquette, Keith had bought a two liter bottle of soda earlier, which now sits at the kitchen counter ready to go.

Keith stops by Ginger’s pen to give her a few parting strokes before grabbing the soda and leaving.

He’s half tempted to drive his bike down there, remembering the time Lance said he looked awesome riding it. But it’s too short a walk—Lance makes the same trek by foot almost daily. So Keith leaves his bike parked where it is and heads on down, pausing to give pets to any of the cats that come to greet him.

*

Keith recognizes the entrance to Lacoste Farm, decorated with homemade signs advertising strawberries, but he’s never gone further than that into their land before. It’s a wide expanse of land, with a few buildings dotted around, and as Keith makes his way further in he spots the strawberry fields.

Rows upon rows upon rows of bushes lined side by side, their leaves a vibrant green with dots of red sprinkled among them. Some are more ripe than others, and at the far end of the field rests a building that looks like a decently-sized greenhouse, perhaps used to continue raising strawberries through the winter months. 

Keith takes a moment to stand in awe at the sight. So this is where his favorite taste of all time comes from. For some reason he’s never really thought about the process that much before, but there must be a lot of hard work put into their craft for every jar of jam Keith has bought from them.

He decides to start buying the largest sizes from now on.

Continuing forward, Keith spots a couple of houses, and figures the one surrounded by cars is where he should be headed. It’s the larger of the two, with a second floor and a wrap-around porch holding several rocking chairs. The colors are warm and friendly, homely.

He can hear faint music, the sound of chatter and laughter, and some children running around by the corner of the house. He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, simply observing, before moving forward and making his way up the steps of the porch. The wooden planks creak and groan under his feet, smooth and worn down from years of use. The front door is wide open, welcoming indiscriminately anyone who approaches. He steps inside, finding himself in a foyer that quickly leads off to a large living room where many people are gathered all over. Some sit on the couch, others in chairs moved from a kitchen table, and some stand close to one another, all holding plates of food in their hands. The Lacoste dinner is off and running, every neighbor already deep in conversation as they catch up with one another in a mix of spanish and english.

Ah.

Keith doesn’t recognize a single person in the room. 

Cool, he’ll just… step out of the way of the entrance and stand around for a bit, not knowing where to put his soda and not really wanting to snoop around like a stranger to find out. 

He sticks to the plan for a few minutes until he hears someone calling his name.

“Hey, Keith!”

A tall woman with a friendly face approaches him, standing by his side and giving his shoulder a firm pat. “Lance will be excited to know you’re here.”

Keith stares at her. Something about her looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it. “You’re…”

“Oh, guess it has been a while. I’m Catalina, Lance’s older sister. I was there when we first welcomed you to town. How’s little Ginger Snap doing?”

Just like that, it hits him. This is the sister that Lance always talks about, the one who has the most experience fostering kittens, and who has taught Lance when he helps her out. All of the supplies Lance brought that first night came from her, and Keith still has several borrowed items he uses with his kitten.

“Thank you,” he blurts out suddenly. “Thank you for loaning me so much, I—I still have some things left over but I’ll give them back to you as soon as I can—,”

“Hey, no, don’t worry about it!” Catalina says, holding a hand up placatingly. “Keep everything as long as you need, it’s really no problem. As long as they’re being used to help a kitten, I’m happy.” She smiles warmly. 

“Okay…” Keith nods slowly. “Um, and Ginger’s doing fine. I think. She’s growing up really fast.”

Catalina laughs. “Yeah, they tend to do that. I don’t see her much, but Lance sends me pictures a lot. You know,” her voice lowers then, into something quiet and secretive, “that night you found her and called for Lance, he actually called me afterwards and asked if I could come with him. He sounded pretty frazzled; I think he thought he couldn’t do it by himself. But I had my hands full. I couldn’t come with, but I let him take some of my supplies. He’s helped me out with several foster litters before and I knew he’d have it under control, but still, I think he was nervous.”

Keith remembers Lance admitting that very thing.

“I can tell he’s gotten a lot more confident since then,” she continues. “He keeps me updated, but I hardly have to give him advice anymore. I'm really proud of him.”

Keith suddenly really wants to see Lance. He doesn't know how to verbalize it without sounding rude, but there must be something on his face that tells Catalina, because she then smiles and places a hand on Keith's back, gently leading him away from his spot. “But enough about me, though, I'm not really who you came here for. Think I last spotted Lance in the kitchen with Mom.” 

Keith goes along with her guidance as she leads him through the living room, past all the chatting neighbors and large table of food. Catalina drops off Keith's soda with the rest of the drinks and continues on through a door to the kitchen, letting Keith step in first.

He hears Lance’s voice immediately. He’s at the sink with his back turned to Keith, standing next to a woman nearly a head shorter than him and chatting excitedly in the same mix of spanish and english as everyone else outside. His shoulders shake as he laughs at something she says.

“Lance, your friend is here!” Catalina announces before slipping back out the door and disappearing.

Lance turns his head, and his eyes light up. “Keith!” Quickly, he rushes to get his hands dried off with a towel before spinning around and coming over to greet him. “Hey, man! Glad to see you here! How’s it going?”

Lance is wearing a nice looking shirt Keith has never seen before. It’s sky blue in color, pleated, and adorned with four large pockets that takes up most of the chest area. It looks good on him.

An intrusive thought plants itself in Keith’s mind at that moment, unbidden.

_He could probably hold so many kittens in those pockets._

It comes and goes so suddenly it catches him off guard, and the mental image that accompanies it brings a flush to his face. Of Lance, grinning proudly with countless tiny kitten heads poking out from the pockets of his shirt. Oh god, it’s too much. It’s too cute. Keith can’t cope. He just stands there, staring dumbly at Lance, taking far too long to answer his greeting.

Lance takes it in stride, probably used to Keith’s bouts of awkwardness by now. “Keith?” 

“I like your shirt,” Keith says.

Lance blinks, then grins. “Thanks! Y’know,” he toys around with one of the pleat designs, “I bet Ginger’s still small enough that I could put her in one of these pockets and carry her around.”

_I LIKE YOU_ , Keith screams internally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about the wait. Some events in my life have demanded my focus and priorities for the last couple of months. I also intended this chapter to be a lot longer and include the whole dinner, but it just would have taken all the more time to finish. Thank you for your patience.


	40. Chapter 40

Lance reintroduces Keith to his mother soon after that. Returning to the shorter woman at the sink, Lance plops his chin on the top of her head. “Mother dearrrr,” he says in a sing-song voice. 

 

“Lancey dearrrr,” she sings back. 

 

“Keith is heeeere.”

 

“Oh!” she squeaks and spins around. She looks very much the same as when Keith first met her, with warm eyes that sparkle and wrinkles formed from years of laughter. Like Lance, she wipes off her hands first before drawing closer to greet him. “Keith, I’m so happy to see you. Did you find the house alright? It’s your first time here, isn’t it?”

 

“Oh, um. Yeah…”

 

“Are you hungry? Did you see the food when you came in?”

 

“Not really…”

 

“Alright, I’ll have Lance show you where it is in a moment. You can just pick up a plate and fill it with anything you want.” She places her hands on her hips, but somehow manages to make it look casual and friendly, instead of stern and confrontational. Her smile is warm and sweet, like honey. “How have you been? How is your Ginger Snap? Of course I ask Lance everyday when he comes back from visiting you, but it’s always good to hear directly from the source,” she says. 

 

“I’m… fine,” Keith says. He’s never been very good at small talk, and it shows. Stuff like this has never really been his thing. Why did he agree to come again?

 

He spots Lance grinning proudly from the side, and oh yeah. That’s why. 

 

Keith had assured Lance that he’ll be fine. So, he’ll be fine. He returns his attention to Lance’s mother. “What about you? I mean—how are you?” Pause. “Doing.”

 

“Busy,” she answers immediately. “Busy, busy, busy, busy! But a good kind of busy. With all this cleaning, and cooking, and hosting, I’m sure I’ll be sleeping very well tonight!”

 

The mention of cooking reminds Keith of something he has yet to do. 

 

“Thank you for the muffins,” he says, apropos of nothing. “I mean, the ones from a couple weeks ago. The strawberry. They were the best I’ve ever had.”

 

Lance’s mother places a hand over her heart, touched. “Oh, Keith, you are so sweet. I’ll be happy to make more for you anytime.”

 

“I mean, I can pay next time,” Keith says quickly, remembering his thoughts from gazing over their strawberry fields. “You all work really hard for them and I’m not going to just keep taking them for free—,”

 

“Keith,” she says softly. She takes a step closer and opens her arms, before pausing a moment. “May I hug you?”

 

“Uh.” Keith blinks. That… came out of nowhere. And while normally he would turn such an offer down, he can remember Lance once boasting over his mother’s hugs, claiming they were the best in the world. Keith hesitates. “I mean… sure?”

 

With a gentle smile, she envelops him in her arms, and oh, Lance was right. She hugs with her whole body in a comforting weight, and Keith finds himself in danger of melting. He barely remembers to lift his hands in turn and give her an awkward pat on the back. He still doesn’t really know what’s going on, but it’s not the most terrible situation in the world to be in, he thinks. 

 

“Now listen to me, Keith,” Lance’s mother says, pulling back from the hug but keeping Keith’s hands firmly clasped in hers. “We don’t sell my muffins. When I make them, it’s either for my family or dear friends. I mean it when I say I will be happy to make them anytime.” She gives his hands a light squeeze. “Alright?”

 

“Ah, uh—,” Keith trips over his words a little, before finally settling on an, “alright.”

 

She smiles again, her warm honey smile. “You are so sweet.”

 

*

 

After that, she urges Lance to lead Keith to the food table, and a few minutes later Keith stands next to Lance in the living room, still awkward, but now with a plate in his hands. Lance had put a little bit of everything on it, some brought in by the neighbors but most cooked at home. 

 

For now, Keith is pretty content to eat silently and watch Lance interacting with others, pausing to chat with Keith from time to time. It’s a lot better, having Lance around. They talk about Ginger, always Keith’s favorite subject, and the other cats. 

 

Emilio and Priscila stop by about half an hour later. Once they learn Lance reintroduced Keith to their mom, they snicker. 

 

“Oh god, so you’ve seen firsthand how much of a Mama’s Boy Lance is,” says Emilio. 

 

“Uh, yeah, have you  _ met _ our mom?” Lance says. “That was a rhetorical question. Keith has met her and he understands completely.”

 

Keith doesn’t really understand, but he nods anyway. 

 

*

 

Just when Keith was beginning to think he could make it through the whole dinner, Lance disappears. Keith doesn’t know how it happened. One moment he was standing there, then the next his mother called out for her children to come help her with setting out the desserts and Keith found himself alone. 

 

The rest of the neighbors starts congregating over to the dining room, leaving Keith standing over by the back door. His index finger rubs over his thumb back and forth the longer he waits for Lance to come back. He’s not really hungry for dessert, and, like the entrance, the back door is open invitingly, so after several minutes he slips out for a while to decompress. 

 

The backyard is empty, all the neighbors’ kids having rushed inside for dessert, so Keith makes himself comfortable on the porch steps, the wood creaking with every movement. He can still see some of the strawberry fields from here. 

 

It’s peaceful. Keith likes it. 

 

“Meow.”

 

He likes it even more, now. 

 

A pale ginger cat approaches him, tail swaying side to side in curiosity, and Keith holds out a hand in offering. Instead of backing away like he thought it would, the cat steps closer to sniff. 

 

The notch in its ear tells Keith that this must be one of the community cats, taken care of in exchange for vermin control. Lance has sent Keith so many pictures by now, he actually thinks he might recognize this one. 

 

“Sunshine…”

 

The cat responds by rubbing her cheek over Keith’s finger, sharing her scent. Keith remembers Lance telling him that she’s a friendly one, so he reaches around to scritch behind her ears. Sunshine leans her head in encouragingly, her tail lifting up fully as a sign of friendship. Her paws stretch and knead on the ground as Keith strokes down her back. 

 

There’s movement out of the corner of his eye, and Keith spots another cat—then another, several feet away. He sees even more spread out over the land, some napping, some grooming one another, and some stalking for prey. Sunshine stays by his side as another approaches, a bit more shy than the former. Keith even thinks he finds Antoinette at one point, which means Nicki Meownaj can’t be too far. 

 

Sunshine, Keith discovers, is very chatty. Every time he slows down or gets distracted looking at other cats, she is always quick to voicing her displeasure. 

 

Must be a ginger thing. 

 

A calico approaches him next, and Keith smiles softly as he holds out a hand for her to sniff. But she doesn’t take the offering; she walks right on by as if he wasn’t even there, trotting up the wooden steps and down the porch. Keith watches as she reaches her destination and starts rubbing up against the denim-clad legs of a man standing several feet away, eyes disinterested and a cigarette between his fingers. 

 

Oh. 

 

The man’s eyes meet Keith’s, and Keith stares back, before the man looks away. He doesn’t say anything. No greeting, no questions, nothing. Just lifts the cigarette to his lips and continues smoking. The guy must have been out here longer than Keith, since he didn’t hear any footsteps. Keith silently agrees to maintain the silence with him, turning back to scratching Sunshine’s chin. 

 

Things remain that way for a while. Quiet, simple, the sounds of chatting and clanking silverware muffled from the inside of the house. 

 

“Keith, right?”

 

Keith glances back to find the man looking at him again. 

 

“Yeah,” he says. Actually, Keith might recognize him too. He tries, hesitantly. “Sebastián… right?”

 

“Yeah,” the older brother of Lance echoes, flicking the ash off his cig. He leans his head back, bumping against the side of the house, and sighs through his nose. “I’m like you. No good at this sort of thing. Never have been.”

 

“Oh… yeah. Me either.”

 

“Won’t tell anyone you’re hiding out here if you won’t tell on me.”

 

The corner of Keith’s mouth twitches a little as he resumes giving Sunshine his attention. “Deal.”

 

They fall silent again after that. 

 

*

 

Keith doesn’t know how much time passes with him idly petting any cat who approaches him while Sebastián stands off to the side smoking without a word. He is, Keith notes, by far the most quiet of all of Lance’s siblings—all of his family, really. 

 

The sound of footsteps interrupts his thoughts. Lance’s mother steps out onto the porch, arms crossed and expression in disapproval. She beelines to Sebastián, who barely has the time to react before his mother swipes the cigarette from his lips, throws it to the floor, and grinds it under her heel. She shoots him a look of a thousand words. Keith doesn’t know how he’d survive under such a look. 

 

“Go help your siblings,” she says. 

 

Sebastián nods, thoroughly chided, and slips away. 

 

Lance’s mother then turns to Keith, and her warm honey-smile returns to her face. “Keith, Lance is looking for you. He feels so bad for losing you. Want me to tell him you’re out here?”

 

“No,” Keith says, standing up and brushing off his pants, “it’s fine, I’ll come back in.”

 

“Have him show you all the dessert when you find him; quite a few have our strawberries!”

 

Keith ends up speeding right to the dessert table instead of looking for Lance first. 

 

*

 

He still hasn’t found Lance, but Keith’s perfectly content perusing through the various strawberry sweets on his own. He makes himself at home in a corner several minutes later, chewing idly on a strawberry dipped in chocolate. 

 

“I’m Marianela.”

 

Keith blinks, looks from side to side. Then down. 

 

A little girl stares back up at him. 

 

“I’m Marianela,” she repeats. “I wanted to wear my blue sweater but Mami said no.”

 

“Oh.” Keith says with a mouth full of strawberry before swallowing. “That’s, uh… a bummer.”

 

The girl nods. 

 

When she doesn’t say anything more, he adds, “I’m Keith.”

 

“I know.”

 

“... Oh.”

 

Keith shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to say next as she continues blankly staring up at him. It’s not that Keith dislikes kids—quite the opposite, actually. He’s always liked the unfiltered honesty and bluntness of children, how they just don’t care. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he knows anything about how to talk to them himself. 

 

“How… old are you?” he asks. 

 

Marianela smiles, straightening her posture with pride. “I have four years,” she says. 

 

“That’s a lot of years,” Keith says. 

 

“Mmhmm.” Marianela nods. “I have almost a whole hand.” She reaches out and holds up four fingers. “How many years do you have?”

 

Keith thinks about it. “More than four hands.”

 

Marianela’s jaw drops. She stares at both her hands, her brow furrowed in deep thought. Then she looks back up at him, frowning. “That’s too old. You should be dead by now.”

 

Keith opens his mouth. Closes it. “Uh. Yeah, I… guess.”

 

Suddenly Lance swoops in out of nowhere and swipes Marianela off the ground, spinning around before propping her on his hip. Marianela squeaks in surprise before giggling and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

 

“Nelita!” he coos. “Did you find Keith for me?”

 

“Tío Leandro,” she says, and sighs. She gives him a look like a doctor about to deliver bad news. “Your friend has too many hands.” 

 

Instead of questioning it, Lance immediately goes along with it, raising his eyebrows. “Woah, really? I had no idea!” Lance turns to Keith, wearing an expression of mock surprise. “Where you been hiding all  those hands, Keith?”

 

Keith just stares blankly. “Uh.”

 

The two tease a bit more, before Lance sets Marianela down and tells her to go find her mother. Marianela nods and shuffles off. Keith later sees her with Catalina, balanced on her mother’s knee as she sits on the couch with other family members Lance introduced him throughout the evening. 

 

Once the sun sets, the neighbors all start saying their goodbyes, Keith included. Lance’s mother gives him one more parting hug, and Lance walks up with him halfway to his house. 

 

“So, uh,” Lance starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know that was probably a lot, but did you have any fun at least?”

 

Keith thinks about it honestly. Lance was right; it was a lot. But at the same time, Keith enjoyed seeing how Lance was around his family. 

 

“Yeah,” he says. 

 

It’s worth it to see the way Lance’s face melts into a smile of relief. 


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/VOy8B0hAxes

“Mhhgh…”

 

Keith groans as he turns his head away from whatever is whapping at his face relentlessly. He was having such a good, deep sleep, too. His limbs feel like lead as he’s forcibly pulled out into the real world. 

 

A paw pushes at his nose. Keith squints his eyes open to find Ginger’s eyes staring back. Groaning again, he turns the other way once more, only for the kitten to climb across his shoulders and land down in front of him to continue her badgering. 

 

“Ginger,” he mumbles. “Five more minutes.”

 

“Mreer!” says Ginger. 

 

At six weeks old, Ginger is Peak Kitten. Big enough to climb up Keith’s bed by herself, she’s made a habit of waking him up when she’s decided it’s time to eat or play. She’s been serving as his alarm clock lately even more than his actual alarm clock. 

 

Speaking of, Keith glances over to the nightstand. The time reveals he would have had to get up in two minutes to get ready for work, anyway. 

 

Well, he supposes it’s much more pleasant to be woken by Ginger than a screeching alarm. With one last protesting groan, he pushes himself upright. 

 

*

 

Keith yawns frequently as he fixes Ginger’s meal, eyes heavy with sleep. She’s gradually moved on to wet food only, without any more kitten formula, so preparation has been much simpler lately. She could probably start eating dry food any day now, actually. Would be a lot less messy. 

 

He thinks about it as Ginger buries her face into her food, getting herself covered in the stuff as she eats ravenously, lips smacking. With her occupied, he returns to his room to get dressed and ready for the day. 

 

He’s slipping his arms through the leather sleeves of his riding jacket when Ginger appears at his door, face covered in wet food and licking her chops. Keith stares at her, raising an eyebrow. She should know enough by now to know what comes next. Yet she meets his gaze head on, as if daring. 

 

As soon as Keith reaches for the box of tissues on his nightstand Ginger kicks into gear, running in place on the smooth flooring before finally gaining traction and scampering off as fast as her little paws can take her. Keith calmly follows after her, the corners of his mouth tickling up. The chase is on. 

 

She leads him into the kitchen first, hiding beneath the old chairs. It’s where she’s taken to stashing some of her smaller toys, colorful and soft, and she stumbles over a few before dashing away to her cat tree. Keith watches her zoom through a pop-up tunnel to get to her destination, taking a flying leap to the first platform. She misses. But she recovers almost immediately and makes another jump, clawing into the column to help herself up the platform. Then she heads up another, and yet another, coming up to almost Keith’s height. 

 

She’s become very skilled at climbing the tree. Coming down is another story. 

 

Keith chuckles as he draws closer, amused with the way Ginger realizes she’s backed herself into a corner. She mews at him pitifully, and then wipes her paw over her face before licking it, as if to say, “look, I can do it myself!”

 

“You have too much energy for someone who can’t have coffee,” Keith says. He cups around her small body with one hand and cleans off her face with the other, feeling fond at the way she squirms in protest. Finally cleaned, he gently picks her up and sets her back down on the ground, letting her scamper off to play with other toys. 

 

He has a few minutes for a quick breakfast and coffee, but it’s not much later when he’s back to chasing Ginger around the room, trying to get her back into her carrier. It’s not that she hates it; she just thinks right now should be playtime instead. 

 

Lance arrives as Keith is finally latching the door closed on her carrier, Ginger squeaking from inside and pawing at the metal grate. Opening the screen door, Lance enters with a grin, amused. 

 

“Aww, are you helping papa with his morning exercise?” he coos as Keith hands over the carrier. Keith just stares at him flatly. “What a good Snap you are!” He gives her a kissing noise. 

 

Lance has too much energy even for a creature who  _ can _ have coffee. 

 

“Hey, you okay?” Lance says next, and Keith blinks. 

 

It’s a slow, weary blink. 

 

“I’m fine, but…” Keith draws a hand over his face, and sighs. He remembers the last time Lance asked him that question. Unlike then, now it’s easier to admit his state. “I’m feeling pretty tired. Do you think you can take her for a couple of nights…?”

 

Lance’s face softens. “Of course, man! It’s no problem at all.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

As they turn around and head out the door together, Keith catches Lance watching him out of the corner of his eye. “What…”

 

“Nothing,” Lance says, but he’s still smiling. “I’m just glad you let me know how you’re really doing. Feels kinda like you trust me a little more, y’know?” He shrugs. “I feel like that kind of thing doesn’t come easy for you.”

 

Keith thinks about it as they near his motorcycle and he stops, glancing back to Lance and feeling warm in his chest. “You’re right,” he says, throwing his leg over the seat and straddling the bike. He gives Lance a smile that comes easy to his lips. “It doesn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @dreamicide


End file.
